


Seven Hours in Heaven

by Ivarinleatherpants (AdamantErinyes)



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M, Fluff, Good Girl Bad Boy, Modern AU, Post-therapy Ivar, Punk!Ivar, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantErinyes/pseuds/Ivarinleatherpants
Summary: Gwen Wessex finds herself locked in a closet with her arch-nemesis, Ivar Lothbrok, overnight.





	1. Part 1

 

 

Kattegat U is the kind of place you get into for one of two reasons. Either you worked your ass off, got the best grades in your entire school, and got a scholarship; or because of your last name.

I am one of the former.

The Lothbrok brothers are of the latter.

They were also ruining my life.

I know, I know, that sounds like an exaggeration. And maybe it was, just a little bit. It wasn’t actually _all_ the Lothbroks ruining my life so much as one in particular.

“Ivar!”

My teeth ground together as the loud shout manages to get through just as I was jamming my noise-cancelling headphones on over my head. Even his name is enough to raise my hackles on a good day, and this was most certainly _not_ a good day.

My infernal brother had decided that he just had to throw a party and, being the social butterfly that he is, it seemed like all 5000 students from our little campus had been through the house. Not least of all the three Brothers Lothbrok, who had deigned to leave the sanctity of the Kappa Kappa fraternity house to grace us with their own special brand of hell-raising.

I bent down further over the piles of books before me, clutching my hair. Even without the noise, the vibrations from the pounding music beneath my feet managed to break through my concentration.

It’s not like Ivar Lothbrok was personally responsible for my current discomfort. In all honesty, he probably didn’t even know that I exist beyond being his friend’s sister. He was, however, the main reason why I was so desperately trying to study on a Saturday night, only two weeks into the start of my sophomore year.

You see, there are very few things I take real pride in. I’m not good with people. I don’t inspire respect like my brother Aethelred, who is a born leader and always dependable. Nor do I make friends at the drop of a hat like Alfred, my twin. The one thing I have to be proud of, the one thing that people admired me for, is that I’ve been the top of my school ever since kindergarten.

Until now. All last year I’d found myself obsessively trolling the not-so-secret webpage where everyone at Kattegat’s grades could be found. No one knows who exactly manages to find and post all this information, but that’s beside the point. Almost every day I would check the list of the highest overall GPAs, and every day I would see the same thing.

  1. Gwen Wessex
  2. Ivar Lothbrok



Somehow, no matter what I did, no matter how much I studied, that pierced and tattooed, lazy man-whore always managed to sneak in just those few extra points. The question, of course, was not how he got to be that smart. It’s _who_ he was getting to WRITE HIS PAPERS FOR HIM??!!

I had sworn a solemn oath to myself that this year, nay, this very _semester_ I would finally defeat him and his cheating ways. If it took every last brain cell I had, I would crush Ivar Lothbrok. As God is my witness!!

“Uh, what are you doing?”

I spun around to see Alfred leaning into my room, and I realized that my fist was still raised in the air from my silent pledge to the Metropolis poster over my desk. I quickly tried my best to look like a nice girl who hadn’t been cursing her arch-nemesis.

“Nothing.” I tried to sound innocent. “What do you want?”

“Uh huh.” Alfred didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “Come downstairs, we’re gonna play Truth or Dare.”

I turned up my nose at the invitation. Really, for someone who I supposedly shared a womb with, Alfred should have known me better. “No, thanks. I’m trying to study.”

“Come on, Gwen.” Alfred whined, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Just one game. You don’t even have to drink anything.”

“No.”

“Gwen.” He drew my name out in that teasing way he does when he’s about to do something really annoying. Sure enough, one arm came up around my neck to hold me still while he rubbed his knuckles into my head in one of his patented noogies. I flailed in protest, but there was nothing I can do but relent.

“Alright! Alright!” I yell. He released me with a grin of triumph, and I tried to settle my auburn hair back into order. “Just one game, right? And then you’ll let me study in peace?”

Alfred nodded, confirming the deal. Surrendering to my fate, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and prepared to stomp downstairs. He may have been able to force me to socialize, but I wasn’t not changing out of my yoga pants and slippers to do it.

~…~

“Hey, Gwennie!”

One of Alfred’s female friends called out to me as we enter the common room. There weren’t that many people left. About a dozen including myself and my brother, all sitting around the room experiencing varying levels of intoxication.

My enemy was among them, draped over a chaise lounge like a drunk sultan in a black leather jacket and skinny jeans. I shuddered at the sight of combat boots on top of plush velvet upholstery. For someone who was supposed to be majoring in history, he had no respect for genuine antique furniture.

“Don’t call me that.” I muttered as I sat beside my brother and his girlfriend, Ealhswith.

No one really payed attention to my grumping as they went back to their game, and I tried to disappear into the couch cushions and my hoodie. At least from there I had a good view of the object of my hatred.

Ivar looked somewhere between very to extremely drunk. His shoulder-length hair was loose around his face, which he seemed to feel the need to fill with holes. His upper lip currently bore that absurd bit of fluff that 16-year-old boys always seemed to think made them look manly. On a grown man it just looked woeful. His blue eyes surveyed the room with a drowsy amusement, as if he was just a little bit above everyone else.

“Ivar, Truth or Dare.” His oldest brother, Ubbe asked him with a grin.

“Dare.” He replied without hesitation and a hint of a smirk.

Ubbe turned to their other brother, Hvitserk, and whispered something to him. They seemed to confer for a little bit, gesturing with their eyes at some of the girls in the room before reaching a decision. Ubbe looks back at Ivar, mischief lighting up his eyes as he cleared his throat.

“Ivar, I dare you to play Seven Minutes in Heaven-“

He was briefly interrupted by a chorus of laughter and one or two wolf-whistles, but everyone soon quieted down. You could hear a pin drop in the room as everyone assembled waited to hear the name of the lucky girl who would be stuck in the old butler’s pantry with Ivar.

“With Gwen.”

The room was still silent as everyone turned to look at me.

~…~

“But… but, Alfred!” I wailed as my own flesh and blood lead me towards the pantry. I didn’t even care that Ivar was following close behind, the rhythmic thump of his crutches like something from a horror movie.

“Now, Gwen.” Alfred tried and failed to sound reassuring, his face filled with puckish glee. “Just seven minutes and then I’ll let you out. You can go right back to studying.”

The pantry was a cramped little room off of the kitchen. Lit by only a single, dim lightbulb, it felt even smaller with Ivar inside and the door closed. He leaned his weight against the wall at the far side – which wasn’t nearly far enough – and regarded me with a cool gaze. I stood by the door, arms crossed and wishing I had worn a watch.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

His calm voice startled me, for some reason. I didn’t think he’d ever actually spoken directly to _me_ before. Now here we were, locked in a tiny room together with at least half the people outside expecting us to be making out. That was NOT going to happen.

“Obviously.” I snapped defensively. “And don’t even think of trying anything.”

Ivar smirked and continued to watch me, apparently taking great enjoyment out of my discomfort.

“I find it strange.”

He stopped, and after a moment of silence I was compelled to look back at him to figure out why he wasn’t continuing. It’s exactly what he wanted, because as soon as I acknowledged him he went on.

“I can’t imagine most brothers would be so happy to lock their sisters in a room with…”

He didn’t have to elaborate. His reputation was anything but chaste. Word had it that even recovering from a major car accident for the past few months hadn’t stopped most of the female student population, one-third of the male, and one or two of the faculty from throwing themselves at him.

“Alfred knows I’m not going to _do_ anything.” I said, sounding as disdainful as possible. “He just wants to make me miserable because I didn’t want to join his stupid party.”

Ivar looked amused by this. “He’ll be at cross-purposes with _my_ brothers then. They’re trying to get me laid.”

I wasn’t aware he needed any help in that department, but I wasn’t about to actually say that to his face. Stupid, hole-filled, gorgeous face.

Snap out of it, Gwen! I yelled at myself. Don’t fall for it! It’s just his weird voodoo that he uses to get good grades. You’re stronger than that!

“Well, I think that’s been about seven minutes.” I said brightly, spinning around to open the door.

It didn’t open.

I jiggled the handle. It definitely wasn’t stuck. It was an old house, but still in excellent repair.

“Alfred!” I yelled, suddenly realizing that his scheme was even more nefarious than I’d first thought. “If you stuck a chair under the door handle so HELP ME–”

The answering laughter from outside was all the answer I needed. It seemed that the lot of them were in on it. I futilely tried to shove at the door, but there was no chance of it opening.

“You could have at least given me my books!” I screamed at the door before turning back around.

Ivar appeared completely unperturbed by the situation. In fact, he’d sat himself down on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him as he smiled at my distress.

“Better make yourself comfortable, Ginger.” He said. “I get the feeling we’ll be here for a while.”

~…~

Within ten minutes, I was starting to consider trying to tunnel out through the floor and into the basement. Ten minutes after that I was staring longingly at the boxes of school supplies, wondering if I could make a noose out of scotch tape and end my misery that way.

“For Christ’s sake, Ginger.” Ivar snarled between his teeth, his patience finally worn thin from twenty minutes of my constant fidgeting. “Just sit the fuck down.”

“I don’t respond to profanity.” I said primly.

Ivar covered his face with his hands and sighed heavily. The muffled words that he directed at his absent brothers made me blush, as if I wasn’t having a bad enough problem with that already.

Okay, honesty time. I might have had a teensy weensy little crush on Ivar way back at the beginning of freshman year before the whole grade thing started. Nothing major. Just, y’know, picked out a wedding dress – vintage 1920’s flapper style. Had our children’s names all picked out – Bard and Sitric. Found a nice house on Zillow – Four bedrooms, three bath.

So turning the corner every day to find him sucking a new face, followed by discovering that his grades are apparently unbeatable, didn’t really hurt at all. Just, y’know, felt a bit like going through cardiac arrest on a daily basis.

Being stuck in tight quarters with him for an indefinite period of time? It was like the purest form of torture ever devised by man. With him just sitting there, looking like this sort of thing happens to him every day while I was having to put an inordinate amount of thought to remain breathing.

“Look, you obviously have some major stick up your a–” Ivar stopped himself, smiled tightly, and started again. “You obviously don’t like me. I don’t know what I did, but why don’t you at least sit down. Take a load off, Annie.”

Cautiously, I slid myself down one wall until I was sitting across from him. “That’s a bit of an abstract reference.” I noted.

Ivar smiled at me crookedly. “What, I can’t listen to The Weight?”

I shrugged in response, looking down at my hands to try and hide how his smile affected me.

“Hey,” he said, his smile suddenly mischievous. “wanna piss off your brother for locking us in here?”

“How do we do that?”

Throwing his head back, Ivar let out the loudest, most graphic moan I had ever heard in my life. I stared in shock as he continued on, moans interspersed with “Fuck.” and “Yeah, that pretty mouth.” and even “Dreamt of those pretty lips around my cock.”

At this point I was hiding my face in my arms, trying to control the embarrassment and – to my horror – arousal that was steadily increasing at what sounded unmistakably like I was giving Ivar Lothbrok a blowjob.

“You’re not fooling us!” I heard Ubbe shout from somewhere outside. “I know what it sounds like when you have sex!”

Ivar stopped immediately to my combined relief and disappointment, still smiling cheekily. At least he seemed pleased with _my_ reaction if not the audience’s.

“It was worth a try.” He shrugged.

I kept my head resting where it was, hopeful that he might assume that I had died and I wouldn’t have to look him in the face again. It was another ten minutes or so before either of us spoke again.

“No, but seriously. What did I do to piss you off so bad?” His face suddenly went a little horrified. “We didn’t actually fuck, did we?”

“No!” I immediately retorted, my head rocketing up, and tried not to feel insulted by his obvious relief. “What do you care anyway?”

“I’m trying to be a better person.” He responded wryly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“Do you know who the top students in this school are?” I asked. I didn’t know what made me say that. Maybe the fact that he was drunk and probably wouldn’t remember this conversation afterward made me bold.

“I dunno, who?”

I gaped in disbelief for a moment before saying, “You and me.”

“No kidding?” A little smile appeared. I could feel my frustration growing. The jackass was playing with me.

“Yeah. I wonder how that happened?”

“Hard work and perseverance?”

“Bullshit!” I snapped. Ivar’s head came back up, looking surprised at my swearing. “I don’t know how you pull it off, but you know damned well.”

“What-?” He looked honestly confused and then offended. “Are you suggesting I’m cheating?”

“I’m not suggesting, I’m saying it! I work my ass off to get the grades I do. While you, well, who knows _what_ all you get up to, but it’s not studying!”

“Now wait a minute here!” Ivar sat up straight, his energy suddenly shifting from calm to dangerously incensed. “So what you’re saying is that I can’t possibly get better grades than you because of, what exactly? Because I have tattoos and listen to loud music? Because I actually like to have _fun_? Jesus, and I thought Sig was bad with the elitist bullshit!”

He threw himself back against the wall, running one hand through his hair in frustration. I could see him trying to calm himself, taking deep breathes, and for the first time I felt a twinge of shame.

I shuffled across the floor cautiously until I was sitting beside him and hugged my knees tightly as I spoke.

“Because I don’t do any of the stuff you do. I don’t go to parties, I don’t hang out with friends, I don’t date. I just study all the time. And if you can do all that and _still_ do better than me, then there’s pretty much no point. It doesn’t matter if I work my ass off to be the best, because there’ll always be someone to swoop in and do better without even trying because it just comes naturally to them.”

“Shit, Ginger.” Ivar sighed. One strong arm wrapped around my shoulders. It was such a comfortingly warm weight, I couldn’t help but lean into him.

“It feels like everything is so easy for everyone _but_ me.”

He nodded as if he understood, asking, “What’re you studying?”

“Molecular biology.” I sniffled a little.

Ivar made a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Are you serious? Damn, how do I say this? If I were taking your classes, I can assure you that I wouldn’t be getting the grades I am now.”

“Really?” I felt myself perking up a little. The relative difficulty of our respective majors hadn’t fully occurred to me before. I turned to look at him beside me.

It was that moment that the single lightbulb decided to give up the ghost. With a loud pop and a final flicker we were bathed in darkness.

“Well, fuck.” Ivar said.

“Don’t worry.” I started to stand up carefully. “We have a bunch of tea lights and a lighter over by you.”

I had to search by braille since the pantry was now pitch black, but I managed to step one foot over Ivar’s legs and locate the box. After a bit of rummaging, I pulled out the long-nosed utility lighter and a candle.

“Um...” Ivar started to say, but I hushed him quickly.

“I said don’t worry, I’ve almost… there!” With a soft hiss of gas and a snap as I pressed the trigger, the little candle was lit, and I could see again.

It was then that I realized that I was a lot closer to Ivar than I had previously thought, and I was currently standing with one foot on either side of his legs, pelvis perilously close to his face. He was looking up at me with a smirk, his hands hovering close to my hips just in case I swayed forward.

I took a quick step back and busied myself with setting half a dozen lit candles around the counters where they could provide light while being out of reach of being kicked or tipped over.

When I finally sat back down, Ivar was still watching me in amusement. I tried my best to ignore him, but it was like some magnetic force drew me to turn and meet his gaze.

Our faces were so close, even in the dim candlelight I could see where the dark line of makeup around his eyes had started to smudge. The corners of his full lips were slightly quirked up, drawing attention to the ring that pierced the the right side of the lower. I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like…

I swallowed, hard. Neither of us made a move to increase the distance between us. Was it really such a bad idea after all? Just a kiss. How often does a girl get the chance to have their first kiss be with someone who’s not only gorgeous, but surprisingly nice and knows what they’re doing to boot?

I moved quickly, smashing my lips against his, before pulling back again. Ivar blinked. I blinked.

“Wow.” He looked like he was trying not to laugh again. “That was terrible. Like, really awful.”

I wasn’t really paying attention. In that brief touch, I had managed to register that his lips were incredibly soft, that the ring in his lower lip actually felt kind of nice, and that he tasted like… ginger ale?

“You haven’t been drinking, have you?” I asked.

So close, I could see that Ivar’s eyes were bright and perfectly focused directly on me. He shook his head slowly, his smile dark and playful.

Oh hell. I’d just kissed a sober Ivar Lothbrok. I’d just _ranted_ at a sober Ivar Lothbrok. I’d just _kissed_ Ivar Lothbrok!

“Then why would you pretend…?” I asked, trying to hide my panic.

“My brothers.” His smile turned dry. “They think me being better means me acting like I used to. It makes them feel better, and keeps them off my ass… usually.”

“Better?”

He gestured towards his legs. “Car accident. I thought you would’ve heard.”

“I don’t really talk to people.” I admitted.

“Sig, my brother, he died. I was driving.” His voice is matter-of-fact.

“Oh.” God, could I possibly sound any lamer?

“He went to a music academy, so I guess most people around here didn’t know him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Yup, that was significantly lamer. On top of it I was starting to sound a little choked up as I imagined losing one of my own brothers.

“Hey, I’m doing okay. Not to say I wasn’t a complete mess at first, because I was. I’m doing the whole therapy thing, physical and otherwise. I can’t say I’m okay right now, but I will be, y’know?” Ivar smiled at me again.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him smile so much. Now that I thought about it, he had been acting differently since I’d first seen him at the start of the year. His normally frenetic energy seemed more controlled, less like he might fly off the handle at any minute.

“So,” he shrugged, “trying to be a better person.”

“Oh.” I should have kept a running tally of how many times I’d said that in the last hour, it would have at least given me something to do aside from humiliating myself.

We lapsed into another silence that wasn’t particularly comfortable on either side. Ivar kept trying to come up with random topics of conversation, and I kept giving one-word answers that did nothing to encourage discussion.

Finally annoyed with my reticence, Ivar huffed and said, “Well, what do you want to do to pass the time?”

“I don’t know.” I muttered, wishing that some Doctor Who monster would appear from the hideous Victorian wallpaper to consume me.

“We could fuck.”

He says it casually, like he were suggesting we play a round of Gin Rummy. Of course, it probably was just that casual for him.

“It would definitely piss of your brother.” He continues snarkily.

I was hiding my face in my knees, which I was hugging to my chest again. It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t sound like such an alluring suggestion. Here I was, locked in a closet with the one-time object of my affection, the campus God of Sex.

My mind was whirling with the possibilities. After all, when was an opportunity like this ever going to present itself again? I asked myself. I’d made it this far because I never had time to go through what I saw as the absurd ritual that was dating. It’s not like I particularly objected to the possibility of having a brief interlude with an attractive, experienced guy that would most certainly prove educational at the very least, and highly pleasurable at the most.

“Okay.” I said. Setting my chin with determination I swung myself around to straddle Ivar’s thighs, being mindful not to rest my weight on them.

“What?” He blurted, but his hands immediately went to my hips as I settled myself with my hands resting on his shoulders.

“I said, okay. Let’s do it.” I replied, a little frustrated by his sudden expression of bewilderment. I tried to lean further into him, but his hands went tight on my hips. Even with just that, he could keep me in place easily. The thought sent a little shiver up my spine.

“B… I…” He stammered, “I was joking.”

My heart plummeted. The excitement that had been building in me fell along with my expression. Of course, why would he actually be interested in me? Even boredom couldn’t bring Ivar Lothbrok to be interested in nerdy little Gwen.

“I haven’t… really,” He looks almost embarrassed as he gestures between us, “Not since before…”

Now I was confused. Ivar sighs and closes his eyes as if he’s preparing himself to go to the executioner’s block.

“I haven’t been able to… _get interested_ … since the accident.” He said, and then hastened to add. “It’s not a big deal. My therapist says it’s probably just from the stress.”

Oh. At least I hadn’t said it out loud this time. I did mutter something that might have been an apology as I tried to climb out of his lap with as much dignity as possible. His hands stopped me once again. I looked back into his face to see a glimmer of mischief had taken the place of his earlier embarrassment.

“But there is _one_ thing that I think I _have_ to do.” He said. His grin was positively wicked as he brought one hand up to pull back the hood of my sweater. His fingers brushed softly over my cheek before sliding deep into my hair. With auburn strands caught between his fingers and his palm firm against my scalp, it was easy for him to guide my face towards his.

“Close your eyes.” Ivar whispered, and I obeyed as if I were hypnotized.

The first press of his lips on mine was soft, and already so much better than the awkward collision from before. He didn’t bother with a slow progression from chaste to sensual, although his every movement was done slowly and carefully. My hands flew back to his shoulders to support myself as, almost immediately, I felt his lips part and his tongue flick out to taste me. I gasped, giving him the opening he needed to slip out again, reaching deeper this time as I did my best to follow his lead.

I couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped out the first time his tongue brushed mine. I’d always thought it would be kind of gross, but it wasn’t. It was soft and firm and wet and all I could do was fist my hands into his jacket as he explored my lips with gentle insistence.

The hand on my hip had managed to nudge its way under the hem of my hoodie, and I could feel Ivar’s index finger curling back and forth over the bare skin of my waist.

“Are you wearing anything under this?” Ivar asked, pulling back to catch his breath.

“Kind of.” I answered. My lips felt weirdly swollen, but all I could think about was getting him to kiss me again.

It seemed he felt much the same way. He brought his hands up to the zipper at my throat, used the tab to pull me back to him before drawing it down. I’d grown uncomfortably hot in the past few minutes, and I was already wiggling my arms out of the sleeves before he could even try.

I could feel his teasing smile against my lips, and he could probably feel my answering frown because he snickered and murmured, “So eager,” in an approving tone. His hands were back at my waist and he forced me to lean back so he could see me.

There was something remarkably gratifying about the look on Ivar’s face as he took in my bright orange, lace bra. But then his stare just kept on going and it was starting to make me squirm.

“What?” I asked, a little snappish. “It’s comfortable and fits my shape!”

“Huh?” He finally looked up at my face. “Oh, sorry, I was just… I really want to take it off.”

He did? I could feel my face heating up again, and he looked deeply amused to see that my blush reached all the way down my chest.

“So pretty.” He murmured, tracing the tips of his fingers over my collarbones. “Wonder what else can make you do that?”

His suggestive tone didn’t help my situation. His words set off butterflies in my stomach and I only just managed to pull myself together enough to tug on his jacket and say, “This first.”

Ivar’s reaction was instantaneous. In less than a minute he’d shrugged off his leather jacket. But then he lifted himself up one hand to push it under his legs, then tapping each of my thighs in turn so he could tuck it under my knees. It was such a sweet gesture, thinking about my comfort at a time like this, that for a moment my heart clenched in a familiar way that worried me.

He had no problem finding his own reward. As soon as I was situated he was reaching up to unclasp my bra, guiding the straps down my arms with a delicate touch. My first instinct was to push my shoulders together, holding the fabric up and keeping myself covered, but he made soft, scolding noises and coaxed me to straighten.

The first time his hands came up and cupped my breasts, I let my head fall back with a sigh of relief. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted this. Even if I had, I couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel to have his big, calloused hands stroking and massaging me.

“So fucking pretty.” He whispered, and when I looked I saw that he was watching, not his hands on my body, but my face as I reacted to him. There was so much intensity in his eyes. Too much. Between force of his gaze and the tension steadily forming under every inch of my skin, it felt like I might be torn apart.

“Don’t.” It came out high and whiny, breathless. It made me cringe inwardly, but it only seemed to encourage him further.

“I want to.” He said. “I want to… I want to make you come.”

A strange, sobbing noise came out of my chest.

“You gonna let me do that?” He asked, and I nodded desperately. “Yeah? Fuck, I’ll bet you’re pretty when you come.”

All Ivar had to do was take the waistbands of my yoga pants and panties in one fist and pull to completely expose me to his questing fingers. I almost collapsed at the first brush through my folds, but somehow I managed to hold myself upright as he began to play with my sensitive flesh.

It only took a few seconds of practiced exploration for his thumb to find my clit. I could vaguely hear myself crying out softly through the mounting pressure, the sensation so much more intense when it wasn’t my own touch.

“Ivar!” I sought his mouth with my own like I was drowning and his lips were my only hope of rescue. He met my kiss with equal eagerness, biting my lips and thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

His middle finger dipped to circle my opening, and he groaned as if in pain. “You’re fucking soaked.” He hissed against my mouth before returning to our kiss with renewed zeal.

My hips were starting to move instinctively, rocking to urge Ivar on. He made no move to hold me still, instead adjusting to match my rhythm as he let me push myself onto his finger.

It was so good. All of it. His thumb circling my clit. His mouth on mine. His finger thrusting gently inside me as his other hand played with my nipple. But it still wasn’t _enough_. Something kept holding me back, keeping me from falling over that edge.

Ivar kept going, kept working my body, kept whispering encouragement. “That’s it. You’re doing so well. Just relax.”

My inner walls clenched tightly as he slipped another finger in beside the first, making him groan.

His voice sounded slightly choked as he said, “Or that, that works too.” Then more kisses, more soft nips on my mouth and chin, down my throat to my breast where he took my nipple between his lips. His tongue rolled around the tight bud as he sucked lightly.

I could feel the exact moment when I hit a point I’d never reached before. It was like seeing a wave in the distance and watching as it comes towards you, knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Ivar seemed to sense it too, because the movements of his hand became insistent, locking on to the rhythm and motion he’d been doing when I first started babbling incoherently.

And like a wave it came crashing over me. My legs shook and my breathing stopped and my whole body sang while my lips went numb. Pure pleasure swept through me over and over and Ivar’s hand didn’t stop until I was whimpering and jerking away from his touch automatically.

My legs finally gave out, and he let me collapse against him as he stroked my hair and kissed my brow.

“ _That_ ,” he murmured, “was the hardest thing _I’ve_ ever worked for.”

I just managed to work up the strength to flap my hand against his shoulder in what ended up being a weak imitation of a smack. Rather than feeling properly chastised, Ivar burst into laughter, and didn’t stop for a long time.


	2. Part 2

“I have to ask.” He said some time later as we lay together. I had been dozing on his chest with his arm wrapped around me, basking in the afterglow and examining the thin gold rings in his left eyebrow. “You have _had_ an orgasm before, right?”

Amazingly, I had yet to feel a pang of self-consciousness that I was currently lying on top of Ivar half naked. After I’d finally been able to move, he’d carefully pulled my lower garments back up with a fond pat to my rump, but my bra had gone mysteriously AWOL. When I looked for my hoodie, I’d discovered that Ivar had commandeered it as a makeshift pillow and didn’t look very interested in returning it. So here I was, still bare from the waist up and surprisingly comfortable to remain so for the foreseeable future. My only regret was that I hadn’t been able to get him into a similar state.

“I _had_ thought so.” I replied to his question sleepily.

For some reason, Ivar sounded personally offended by this. “Two questions now. One, what kind of guys have you been seeing. Two, do they know what they’ve been missing?”

“I haven’t… actually…” I mumbled reluctantly. I could feel Ivar’s muscles tense through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and I dared to peek up at his face to try and ascertain the extent of his horror.

What I saw instead was the biggest, most shit-eating grin that had ever crossed his face. “You mean you’ve never…?”

I shook my head, and he managed to defy all my expectations by looking even _happier_.

“I’m the first one?” When I nodded, he closed his eyes tightly with a groan and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to force his mouth to stop grinning like an idiot. His voice came out husky and a little bashful as he admitted, “That’s actually insanely hot.”

God, this guy was going to be the death of me. I’d just had the best orgasm of my life and I was already feeling a tingle start to build up again. For a few minutes I considered how I might go about seeing if he could do that again, but he probably had pretty bad hand-cramps as it was, so I decided that it would probably be a little selfish ask.

“I was wondering.” I said by way of a distraction. “If your brothers were trying to get you laid, why would they stick you in here with me?”

There was a long silence from Ivar before he said, _very_ carefully, “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Why not?” I pouted slightly, since he seemed to go a bit gooey when I played up the sweet, nerdy girl thing.

“Look, Ging, guys say stuff sometimes to each other when they’re three sheets to the wind that, in the cold light of day, might sound a little bit crass.” Ivar seemed to be trying to be as tactful as possible.

“And you are suggesting that just such a conversation happened between yourself and your brothers at some point about myself?” I couldn’t resist teasing him. The suggestion that he even knew of my existence as a sexual being before now set of butterflies in my stomach.

“I’m not talking about it.” He said with finality. “Ask me something else.”

I traced a DNA strand up and down his chest for a moment before tentatively asking, “Would you be okay telling me about your brother, the one who died?”

He sighed and tightened his arm around me, pulling me tight against him. “Sigurd. He was barely a year older than me. There were some complications when I was born, my mother and I both almost died. After that and knowing she couldn’t have any more kids, she kind of… latched on to me. Sig was still a baby himself but he kind of got shoved off onto the nannies.

“He resented me for taking mother away, and I resented him because he could do whatever he wanted. Really, I was overprotected and he was ignored.”

“The grass is always greener, huh?” I mused, stroking my hand over his chest in what I hoped was a soothing way.

“Pretty much, only I didn’t figure that out until it was too late. That day we were driving together and having a huge fight. I don’t even remember what it was about anymore. I was driving way too fast and them bam! It’s all pretty much a blur, I just know that I lost control and when I came to, my legs were a mess and Sig was dead.”

“I can’t imagine losing one of my brothers like that.” I said softly.

“Be honest,” joked Ivar, “you’ve thought about it at least once since we got in here.”

“Yeah, but it still kind of puts the problems I have with my brothers into perspective, even if Alfred _did_ lock me in a closet with a pervert.”

Ivar gave me a cheeky smirk. “See, that’s funny, cause I don’t remember hearing, ‘Ah, oh God, yes, Pervert’, a few minutes ago.” He mimicked the sounds I was _sure_ I had _not_ been making with great enthusiasm. Cheeky bastard should have studied drama instead, he certainly had a flair for it.

“Oh shut up, you!” This time I had enough strength to give him a sharp swat on the shoulder as he laughed unrepentantly. I still couldn’t resist asking, “Um, I was also kind of wondering why you wanted to – y’know – do _that_ so bad.”

Ivar snorted in amusement. “I dunno, you seemed like you really needed it.” He said dismissively.

I frowned. “What, because of the stick in my ass?”

“Okay, let’s be fair I never _actually_ said that.” He then muttered thoughtfully, “Although I can think of _something_ else that could go– Ow!”

My hand had collided sharply on his abdomen, and he curled his legs up to try and protect himself from any future attacks.

“Okay, that was my spleen.” He said hoarsely.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I replied prissily. “Your spleen is much higher than that. If anything it was just your colon.”

“Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better.” Ivar grumbled. “Does your family know you’re so abusive? Damn, and you were so sweet for a few minutes there. Has the effect worn off already? You wanna do it again?”

I froze, suddenly anxious that he had somehow read my mind. He was just teasing, right? He couldn’t actually know the reaction my body had to his dirty, cheeky jokes and suggestive praise… right?

Too late I realized that he’d lifted his head up and had caught my deer-in-the-headlights expression. With a filthy grin he almost crowed triumphantly, “You do, don’t you?”

“Ugh!” I cried out in defeat.

Ivar quickly sat up and moved himself back against the wall. He slapped his thigh and smirked at me. “Well?” He said. “Mount up.”

“B-what?” I stammered, sitting up and suddenly feeling the need to hold one arm across my breasts.

“Why not?” He asked. “It’s the most comfortable way I can think to do this while my legs are still like this.”

“You don’t… mind?” I asked, putting my hand into his outstretched palm and letting him guide me like a knight helping his lady out of a carriage.

Ivar looked at me with confusion. “And making a beautiful, smart girl come so hard she loses the power of speech is supposed to be, what, a burden to me?”

“I dunno.” I shrugged. “I guess you’re just a lot different than I expected.”

“Four months ago you wouldn’t be that far off.” He admitted, rubbing his hands up and down my back to try and make me relax.

They were so big that one laid flat could easily span the entire width of my back. Just the thought of that, of the differences between our bodies – his hard and solid where mine was soft and rounded – had me biting my lip to hold back a moan.

“Ah ah.” He said, tapping one finger on my mouth. “None of that. It’s part of the deal, okay? I want to hear every pretty little sound you can make.”

I nodded, feeling unusually obedient. Still, I couldn’t help but fight Ivar a _little_ bit. I flicked my tongue over the pad of his finger. His eyes widened and his breathing hitched, and I felt a surge of pride at having drawn that kind of reaction from him all on my own. Suddenly brave, I parted my lips and took the tip into my mouth, sucking softly the way he’d done to my nipple earlier.

A low groan tore through him. The rest of his hand had settled around my jaw, holding me steady while I experimented, stroking his digit with my tongue. His mouth fell open and his eyes darkened as his breathing grew heavy.

His eyes closed tightly for a moment, and I could see his jaw tense before he finally opened them again. Taking his hand back gently, he tugged at my waistband firmly. “I want you to take these off.” He said, and I nodded in agreement.

Ivar’s hands joined mine in pulling my pants and underwear down for the second time that night. He helped me to balance on each knee in turn so I could get everything down my legs and off over my feet without _too_ much undignified flailing.

“This too?” My fingers went immediately to playing with the hem of his shirt. He wasted no time removing it and exposing his torso to my eager scrutiny.

Damn, the man was arrogant as hell, but he had one or two things worth being arrogant about. I had no idea what he was doing to keep his body like that, but I wasn’t about to stop and ask. I was already lost in tracing the lines of his muscles, his warm skin the golden tan of someone who was deeply familiar with the outdoors. It contrasted starkly with the black lines that swirled over his neck and upper body and then down one arm in an abstract, tribal design.

I could have spent hours exploring just this, but Ivar, it seemed, was feeling impatient. Before I had even come close to looking my fill he’d taken my face in his hands and pulled me close for a passionate, messy kiss. Once again I found myself clinging to him for support as he plundered all sense of reason from me with his lips and tongue.

One hand trailed down my neck as he continued to kiss me, stopping to give my breast a firm squeeze before moving on to my hip. It trailed deliberately over to trace the curve of my ass before coming back around to cup my sex.

“Jesus.” He swore against my lips. “I’ve barely done anything and you’re already like this?”

A sound that was suspiciously akin to a mewl came from somewhere high in my throat. It took him barely an instant to get his hand back into position, thumb playing lightly with my clit and two finger pressed inside me, curling slowly but firmly against my inner wall.

Only this time, I wasn’t the only one gasping and looking vaguely pained as my pleasure grew. His other hand left my cheek, and I looked down and gasped as he pushed it into his jeans. Through the thick material I could see him squeezing and massaging himself.

“I want to do that.” I somehow sounded clear and steady even though I felt like the floor might drop out from under me at any moment.

Ivar’s first reaction was to cringe deeply and hiss out a long, hoarse, “Fuuuuuuuck.” His second was to quickly fumble with the button and zipper of his pants and jerk both them and his underwear down one-handed.

I bit my lip in curiosity as his cock came into view, the scientist in me suddenly interested to see a live specimen of what, until now, had only interested me academically. It wasn’t fully erect yet, but from what I understood it was certainly an excellent example of…

There is what is most definitely a metal ball at the head of his penis, and a second a little further down. I’m sure my face was downright cartoonish as I realized that this was another piercing.

Ivar had apparently not noticed my clinical perusal of his equipment. His mind was still on a single, direct path, and to that end he held up his hand and beckoned with it. “Gimme your hand.” He said urgently, and again I eagerly complied.

He guided my palm down until I was gently cupping his half-hard shaft. His hand between my legs had gone still, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to focus my full attention on this, on learning how he wanted me to touch him.

His fingers gently adjusted mine until we were both gripping him, the soft pressure of his hand showing me how to move, how to spread the bead of moisture gathered at the tip down his length.

“Is that enough?” My voice was hoarse. I was beginning to understand how he could take so much satisfaction out of just touching me like this. Jolts of arousal seared through me, as well as a giddy sense of power.

“Wha’?” Ivar mumbled out between panting breaths.

“Is that wet enough?” I clarified. “I could – here.” I pulled my hand from his grasp despite his moan of disappointment. I tried not to leave him like that long, licking a thick stripe over my palm before bringing it back to his cock. My saliva acted as a lubricant, allowing my hand to glide more easily up and down.

“Oh, that’s–” He sighed, his hand tightening back around mine, “Fuck you’re a smart girl, aren’t you.”

“Uh-huh.” Came out of my lips in that high, soft voice and I could _feel_ Ivar’s cock get even harder when he heard it. I added a little twist of my wrist, brushing my thumb over the purple, straining head on every upstroke. My curiosity won out and I stopped briefly to touch the metal ball, moving it a little to see how it worked.

Some dam seemed to break inside him, because words just started to pour out of him between rough grunts and high, gasping cries as I alternated stroking his cock and fiddling with the jewelry that continued to fascinate me.

“You like that?” A low groan. “You like me telling you what a good girl you are? Ah! Fuck, I love it. Love what a sweet thing you are. Ah, wanna fuck you so bad.”

His fingers had started to move again, thrusting and curling inside me to the rhythm of the filth that was coming out of his mouth. It all – _all_ of it – made me burn with the desire for more.

“I want… I want you to.” I moaned. Our foreheads were pressed together, our lips a hairsbreadth apart. But neither of us wanted to stop the flow of sounds to actually kiss.

Ivar bared his teeth in a growl. The dangerous, unpredictable boy of last year pushing through. “I would,” he sounded almost angry, “but I wasn’t exactly prepared for this. And _someone_ is a _good girl_ and doesn’t – carry – a condom!” He punctuated every snarled word with a harsh curl of his fingers inside me.

I wailed. Later I would probably spend a lot of time pondering why that particular combination of ruthlessness and genuine praise did to me what it did, but in that moment all I knew was that I was seeing stars and feeling like the sexiest being alive.

“Oh, fuck.” Ivar’s tone became suddenly frantic. His vocabulary became reduced down to the single word, “Fuck”, which he repeated like a chant as his whole body tried to curl in. I still had the faint presence of mind to reach over and snatch a kitchen towel from a nearby shelf just before he came, releasing spurts of white cum over our hands and his belly.

His head rolled back with a thump, his eyes closed and his whole face relaxed.  I gently cleaned us both up. Finally I pressed soft kisses to his lips, even though he could barely respond with more than a little smile of contentment. I just felt strangely overwhelmed with affection for him after seeing him like that.

“Gimme a minute.” He said eventually.

“Hm?”

Ivar’s eyes peeked back open again, wicked grin fully back in full force. “What, you think I would leave you hanging after that?”

“Well, I-”

“Ginger, I just came for the first time in four months. I’m going to fucking _wreck_ you.”

In a daze of arousal and confusion, I watched as Ivar took his shirt, his jacket, and my hoodie and laid them behind me as a makeshift nest. I didn’t understand until he urged me to lean back, guiding me down on his arms until I lay there before him.

“I thought you said it was more comfortable–”

“Babe, we’re not doing _that_ anymore.” He said, mimicking my demure choice of words. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out with a dark, lascivious look as he moved to lay over me. I had the startling realization that, through all the intense kissing, I had somehow failed to notice the stud in the center of his tongue.

“Oh, you want to…”

He’d started to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to my belly and hips, but he stopped abruptly and looked at me with concern. “Yeah, is that okay?”

“Um, yes?” I squeaked.

Not satisfied with this answer, he propped himself up on his elbows, examining my expression seriously. “Hey, I may like getting you flustered, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. It’s no fun for either of us that way.”

How surreal was it to be lying there, looking down my own naked body to find the face of Ivar Lothbrok, asshole extraordinaire, looking back at me with concern because he was worried that I wasn’t comfortable with him going down on me. That was it. I was a goner. The wedding dress was reordered and two more children were added to the plan.

“I’m okay.” I smiled at Ivar, and his frown melted away into something vaguely starry-eyed. “I promise.”

“Okay?” He asked one last time.

“Okay.” I replied with a nod.

He was grinning once more, and with a whispered, “Okay.” he dove back in as if there had never been an interruption.

I appreciated the time he took working his way down, giving me the chance to get used to his mouth on my body. He even lapped at my skin, letting me feel the piercing and get an idea of what it might feel like on more tender parts.

Speaking of which, he draped one arm over my hip so that his fingers could return to my vulva, touching my clit with feather-light strokes.

Thank god, he seemed to sense that too much teasing and I would either have a panic attack or kick him in the face. He kept his progress sure and steady, pausing only briefly after placing one final, chaste kiss to the dark red curls over my pubic bone before parting my folds with his fingers and rubbing his lips ever so softly over the swollen bud of my clit.

When the tip of his tongue began to brush back and forth, up and down, in circles around that bundle of nerves, I lost it. I found myself shooting up onto my elbows, not sure why but irresistibly compelled to move, to sit up so I could feel like I was doing something to stabilize myself as I moaned and gasped helplessly.

Ivar’s hands reached up for a moment to take mine, encouraging me to lace my fingers through his soft, thick hair before returning to work. I tried to keep my grip gentle, but every time the pleasure made me twitch accidentally jerk at the strands, he gave a low moan that sent vibrations into my clit.

He opened his mouth wider to lave at me, the softness of his tongue surrounding the hard metal bump in the center. I could feel him smile against me as he undulated his tongue to roll the stud directly over my clit without mercy.

“Ivar.” I whispered his name over and over as he took me higher. He was by no means silent, making all kinds of happy, approving sounds as he slid his fingers back inside me, thrusting and twisting them at a pace that made me almost jerk away. His arm over my hips kept me in place, forced me to surrender as my orgasm came over me with frightening speed.

Again, he rode it out with me, delicately altering his movements every time oversensitivity made my muscles jolt away. Even when the most intense part was over, he kept going, softly licking at me until I had to use my hold on his hair to forcibly remove him so I could start to breath properly again.

I was vaguely aware of him wiping his mouth on a clean edge of the towel I had used before, then once more with the back of his hand before leaning down to kiss me.

“I think this must be what drugs feel like.” I mumbled through the haze of endorphins.

He looked, as I should have expected by now, fucking smug. “I couldn’t say, I’m lacking one of the two experiences needed to make that comparison.”

I squinted at him, suspicious of the meaning behind his words. I just couldn’t be bothered to try to figure it out.

He grinned, rubbing one finger between my eyebrows and down my nose. “For a second there, I thought I might not make it out intact. Can you imagine? To save my legs, only to lose my fingers to your pussy. That would be…” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling like he really had to think about it, “Actually, I wouldn’t really mind that.”

I took advantage of the fact that his finger had started tracing my lips by biting it… hard. He jerked away with a hiss and a twinkle of what looked like admiration in his eyes.

~...~

We slept for hours after that, wrapped up in a tangle of limbs. I woke, half on top of Ivar again, to the sensation of his nails scratching lightly over my lower back. Peeking up, I saw that his eyes were still closed. He was just idly moving the hand of the arm that was around me while he drowsed quietly.

“Morning, Ginger.” He murmured.

“You know, no one calls me that.” Was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to sound so prickly, but I was distinctly aware of the fact that I was still completely naked and sprawled over a shirtless man and feeling exposed.

“I do.” He replied, unbothered by my morning attitude.

I was preparing a plan of escape, mapping out the easiest way to get my clothes back with the minimum amount of movement that might cause any… jiggling. The bastard seemed to have a sixth sense for my discomfort. Before I could react I found myself rolled on my back, one denim-clad leg pinning me down as he smirked down at me.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

“I just…” I stammered as his palm wandered, petting me from just under my arm down to my hip and back again. “I just wanted to get dressed. Someone will probably be coming to let us out soon.

Ivar snorted. “Fat chance. From the looks of things the last time I saw him, Al’s going to have the hangover of his life and my brothers are probably still unconscious.”

“You would be surprised what he’s willing to fight through if he thinks he has a job to do.”

Ivar wasn’t having any of it. He shushed me softly and leaned in to press little pecks to my neck. His sad excuse for a five-o’clock shadow tickled me, and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. He growling dramatically, pressing his teeth lightly into my skin and shaking his head like an attack from a vicious animal, which only made me giggle harder.

“Stop that!” I tried to chide him, but it came out half-hearted and girlish. It only encouraged him to continue, leaving more bites and all the while making more growls. _Someone_ had a thing for playing the Big Bad Wolf. I pushed against his shoulder with only the smallest amount of force possible; bringing my leg up over his hip in a parody of a fight.

Which is pretty much what Alfred saw when he opened the door. I was the first one to see him, and I froze instantly. Ivar first noticed my sudden stiffness in his arms, and then followed my eyes to look back over his shoulder at the disheveled, panda-eyed young man standing in the doorway.

He was so painfully hungover, he couldn’t quite find the wherewithal to react. He just stood there, staring blankly at the sight of his topless friend lying on top of his unclothed sister, having instantly arranged his limbs in such a way as to preserve her modesty. The only emotion he betrayed was the white-knuckled grip on the handle of his coffee mug.

“I’m going to close this door.” Alfred finally decided, “I’m going to finish my coffee. And then we are going to have a talk.”

“Uh huh.” Ivar’s forehead was resting on my shoulder as if not looking at him would make Alfred go away faster.

Alfred turned to leave, but stopped to add, “And Ivar?”

“Yeah, man?” He was starting to sound distinctly strained.

“Do _not_ take your time about it.”

“Yup.” Ivar hastily agreed. He waited for the door to be shut and we heard the sound of the doorknob being released and Alfred shuffling away in a zombie-like stupor before rolling to lie beside me, hands over his face.

“What, _now_ you’re the one who’s embarrassed?” I asked in disbelief.

His whole face was flaming red. “Look, there are some things a guy hopes _never_ to experience in his life, and that was one of them.”

“Oh, you mean having your twin walk in on you getting it on?”

While Ivar groaned pitifully, I started foraging for my clothing. I don’t know why it pissed me off so much, but I was boiling by the time I’d ripped my hoodie out from under him. My bra was still absent, and I wasn’t about to stick around to find out what he’d done with it.

“Gin- Gwen!” He finally said as I zipped the sweatshirt up to my chin with unnecessary force. He tried to hold me still with his hands on my thighs as his voice took on a note of pleading, “Gwe- c’mon, don’t be like that. Gwee-eeen!”

“Let go!” I snapped. I was only further angered by the tears that stung at the backs of my eyes. It was stupid to be so upset, but horrible weight had settled in my chest that refused to budge.

“I will, but let me say something first.” Ivar’s tone became firm, making me go still even though I still refused to look at him. “Once you walk out that door, we’re back in the real world and this is over.”

I sniffled audibly, my lower lip trembling.

“Let’s not end it like this, with you mad at me. I’m sorry I got like that. Forgive me.”

I nodded numbly at a faded spot of wallpaper over his head.

“There’s my sweet girl.” He reached up to wipe his thumbs under my eyes. I let him hug me around my hips and lay his cheek on my stomach, combing his hair back into order with my fingertips.

Conscious that Alfred was probably counting the seconds that we stayed in the pantry, I finally pulled back. I retrieved his crutches and jacket and held them while he got his shirt back on and got to his feet. He took the crutches with a thanks a one final kiss. It was obviously meant to be a quick peck, but somehow our mouths locked and held it, lingering for one long, bittersweet moment.

~...~

In the kitchen, the dead were beginning to rise and shuffle in for the array of hangover remedies that Ealhswith had set out. The room had been renovated to a well equipped space with a large island in the center where all the residents of the house could gather.

Ubbe and Hvitserk stumbled in slowly, apparently having passed out in the living room at some point during the night, and plunked down onto a couple of barstools while Ealhswith poured generous mugs of coffee for them. She wasn’t a big drinker herself, and always took it upon herself as a sort of den mother to tend to her frazzled housemates and their friends in all sorts of ways.

It took a few gulps of the strong brew before the pair were able to register that their brother was sitting across from them, smiling pleasantly while Ealhswith served up a hearty breakfast for those of us who could stomach it. They winced at him in greeting before turning back to their coffee. Another full mug and various painkillers later and they were starting to look brighter, Hvitserk was even starting to eye our breakfast lustfully.

Ivar pushed a plate across the island to his brother with a knowing smile, and the older man set to it with gusto.

“You know, Hvitserk, I had the strangest dream last night.” Ubbe said with a sly smile. He’d recovered somewhat and he was now leaning back, arms crossed and looking between me and Ivar insolently.

“What was it, brother?” Hvitserk asked around a mouthful of eggs and toast, a twinkle in his eye.

“I had a dream that I was half passed out in the living room here, and I kept hearing the distinct sounds of Ivar having sex.”

My glass of orange juice froze halfway to my mouth. I tried to see Ivar’s reaction to this comment out of the corner of my eye, but he just continued to eat as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Hvitserk was grinning now. “How strange, I had the very same dream.”

Ealhswith cleared her throat abruptly and noisily just as a dry voice says, “A dream about what?”

Alfred walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and looking a shade closer to human and not even remotely amused.

“Nothing.” Hvitserk’s mood sobered instantly. He refocused all his energy on eating while Ubbe casually sipped his third cup of coffee.

“Hey, you guys mind leaving us for a bit?” Alfred asked casually.

Hvitserk and Ubbe both looked at Ivar first, and when he nodded they both slipped out of the room quietly, plate and all.

Alfred began to speak, his tone deadly serious. “Listen, what is said here cannot leave this room. Because while I’m Gwen’s twin and recognise that she is as much a grown adult as I am with a… a…”

“Libido?” supplied Ealhswith in a monotone.

“Yes, thank you, one of _those_. Our brother, on the other hand, does not share my liberal view of the matter. That and his entire circle of close friends consist of the entire rugby team, who would all be quite happy to hide a few bodies on his behalf. If he ever caught wind of this… of this…”

“Liaison?” Ealhswith suggested.

“Thanks, love, this _thing_ , Aethelred would first come after me for not acting as a proper guardian to my sister’s chastity belt, and then he would come after you. So it’s really in everyone’s best interest if this whole…”

“Incident?”

“This whole incident were to just” —he waved a hand vaguely— “fade into the great ether of things that are past.”

“You don’t think that was just a little bit dramatic?” I asked dryly.

“Have you _met_ our brother?” He replied with rising distress.

I glanced at Ivar, who had so far taken in this whole speech without really reacting. “I’m not going to do anything that would hurt Gwen.” He said.

Alfred sighed and looked visibly relieved. “So that’s it, right? We don’t talk about this and it stays between us?”

Ivar shrugged. “I said what I said.”

That wasn’t what Alfred really wanted to hear, but it was all he was going to get because Ivar stood up and took his crutches and jacket from where I’d left it on the counter, whispered a quick “See ya, Ginger” into my ear, and walked out of the room. I could hear him call out to his brothers as he left, telling them to move their asses because otherwise, the guy on crutches was going to beat them back to the house.

We all three watched him leave in silence. Finally, with resignation Alfred shook his head and said, “Well, at least I know that when I’m drawn and quartered by a bunch of rugby players, I’m taking him with me.”

I payed no attention to him, still lost in a bit of a cloud from the residual tingle left on my ear from Ivar’s breath as he said those words. I couldn’t stop them repeating in my head as I wondered, what had he meant by that?


	3. Part 3

 

I spent all the rest of Sunday in a daze. Ealhswith started to cast concerned glances my way after the third time that I spaced out in the middle of a conversation. I tried a bit of gardening with our housemate Magnus, which usually helped me to calm and center myself. After twenty minutes of trying to weed I had to admit it was a lost cause as I realized that I had, once again, pulled up something that was supposed to be there.

Lying in bed that night, I reminded myself of the last conversation Ivar and I had in the pantry. Like he’d said, we had been in another world. I fell asleep reminding myself that there was no point getting myself out of sorts. It was over now. Tomorrow we would both be back to class and our real lives.

~...~

Or not. I stepped out of class Monday afternoon and stopped short. Directly across from the door, leaning against the wall as casually as could be, was Ivar.

He wore a gray sweatshirt layered under his leather jacket, but even with the hood up I could see that his hair was pulled back. I could see every line of his jaw, the small black studs in his ears. The fact that he was clean shaven just made his appearance all the more devastating. But what made it hard for me to not avert my gaze was the way he looked directly at me. There was no mistaking who he was waiting for.

His head was resting back against the wall, and he looked down his nose at me with the smallest of smiles. Even in the crowd of students that poured out of the rooms around us like a tide, he hadn’t bothered to call my name. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself feel annoyed at the pure arrogance of him. The way he was so assured that I would notice him; the calm, cocky way he looked at me now.

I stepped forward slowly, twisting the shoulder strap of my bookbag in my hands and smiling back at Ivar shyly. I was suddenly painfully aware that I was wearing a plaid button-down that I’d stolen from Aethelred and leggings. Standing in front of him, I must have looked like the frumpiest nerd that ever walked the Earth.

“Hey, Ginger.” Ivar’s voice was so soft I almost leaned in closer to hear him better.

“H-hi, Ivar.” I cringed internally as I heard myself stammer. So much for last night’s resolve. Five seconds back in his presence and I was a complete mess.

“You got any plans for lunch?”

I shook my head ‘no’.

“Wanna go over to Helga’s with me?”

Ivar said the name of the little restaurant just off campus casually, as if it didn’t take most students an average of two years to work up the courage to step inside those hallowed walls.

“Um… okay.” I somehow managed to say.

He frowned. “You sure?”

I realized how my tone must have sounded to him, and tried to make up for it by nodding eagerly. Maybe a bit too eagerly. Now I looked like some kind of bobblehead. With great determination I tried to pull myself together and regain some of the dignity that had apparently left me when Ivar gave me two amazing orgasms and reignited my infatuation.

“Let’s go then.” He tipped his head towards the exit.

Retrieving his crutches where he’d leaned them against the wall beside him, he moved with surprising dexterity as I fell into step beside him. Luckily, the building we were in wasn’t far from the restaurant. We were mostly silent on the short walk, with me not really knowing what to say and him focusing on getting there without tripping on a sidewalk made uneven by roots from the ancient trees around us.

Helga herself was there to greet us when we stepped inside. Her friendly, open face lit up when she saw us.

“Ivar!” She rushed forward to hug him. “It’s so good to see you!” She gave me a bit of a once over and asked, “Who’s your frieeeend?”

Ivar looked both embarrassed by pointed question, and strangely proud as he introduced us. “This is Gwen. Gwen, this is Helga.”

She gave a sound of curious and yet knowing interest as she grinned at me. Ivar had to clear his throat before she would stop looking at me and show us to a table.

The diner was set up in a sort of a ‘U’ shape, with the bathrooms at one far end, the entrance to the kitchen at the other, and all the tables along the longest wall in between. But Helga led us to a booth right next to the kitchen that was set apart from the others. It was obviously meant to be a place where employees could take their break away from the regular customers. It couldn’t be seen from the rest of the restaurant proper.

“Here you are, Ivar. Just like you left it.” She gestured to the table.

“Thanks, Helga.” He said as he carefully sat himself on one side of the table. I sat down across from him and accepted a menu from Helga, grateful to have something to hide behind while I recovered from the awe that Ivar was on a first name basis with the university's unofficial culinary goddess.

It didn’t take us long to decide what we wanted. Ivar apparently always got the same thing, a cheeseburger, and I had been dying to try their fish burger for what felt like forever. Alfred couldn’t go to restaurants due to his Crohn’s, and I’d never had the courage to come on my own.

Even though I could tell she wanted to stick around, Helga hurried off with an assurance that the two of them would “catch up later.”

As we waited for our food, we sat in silence. I continued to struggle trying to think of something to say. Ivar, on the other hand, seemed to be feeling no discomfort whatsoever. Instead he sat there, staring at me with a dopey grin, chewing on the drawstring of his hoodie.

“What?” I finally had to ask, blushing under his ceaseless gaze.

He shrugged sheepishly before replying, “Nothing. I just really want to kiss you right now.”

I glanced behind him where I could faintly hear the sound of the other diners, all students. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that here.” I mumbled.

Ivar looked around, over both shoulders, and under the table with exaggerated concern. “What? Is Alfred lurking somewhere?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I realize you think you’re funny, but you’re really not.”

He laughed - actually _laughed_ \- at that. “God, I missed being randomly bitched at.”

“I’m not bitching!” I protested. “And it’s been less than 24 hours!”

“I know.” Ivar’s expression turned suddenly sincere. “I still missed you.”

Little bastard could make me pissed off one second, and completely disarmed the next. Did he even know the power he held over my emotional state? Did he care?

“I meant it.” He said. “I liked being with you the other night.”

I raised my eyebrows, trying to appear sardonic. “Oh really? Is that the plan here? Lunch and then get in my pants again?”

He doesn’t seem at all surprised by my question. In fact, he finds it incredibly amusing as he laughs again. “See? This is what I like about you. You’re expectations of me are so low to begin with that I can’t possibly disappoint you!”

It was oddly offensive to me to hear Ivar say something like that so casually. I frowned and sat up straight, saying seriously, “You shouldn’t say things like that about yourself.”

Ivar’s smile faded. I wasn’t sure what his expression meant, but he spoke very softly. “I shouldn’t?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“But you kind of do the same thing, don’t you? Talking about how you aren’t good at anything without putting everything into it.”

It was true. I supposed we were actually a lot of like in that way, both way too hard on ourselves.

“Besides,” he grinned cheekily, “I know at least _one_ thing you seem to be a natural at.”

I threw my napkin at him in response, even knowing that it was exactly the reaction he wanted. He seemed to get off on saying stuff like that and, to be perfectly honest, I kind of liked it too.

It was thrilling for me the way he talked to me like he couldn’t help but be constantly aware of the fact that I was a woman, as well as being smart. The people in my life just weren’t like that with me, blunt and open about literally _everything_.

“Seriously though,” Ivar said “I like you. I like talking with you and, yeah, admittedly, other things too. That’s the plan so far, from start to finish.”

I was too stunned by this admission to respond, and he took the chance to shift the subject.

“So I gotta be honest. I’m not really sure what molecular biology actually is.”

I folded my hands in front of me as I formulated a response. “Well, it’s biology on the molecular level. So the basic building blocks of all organisms.”

We were briefly interrupted by Helga delivering our food along with tall glasses of chocolate malts. Ivar sipped his for a moment before asking another question.

“So what do you do with that?”

“Anything, pretty much.” I was growing animated having the chance to discuss my field of study. “Any work involving DNA is molecular biology. It’s what’s going to help us find cures for everything from cancer, to Alzheimer’s, to any number of genetic conditions.”

“And that’s what you want to do?” He asked before taking a bite of his burger.

“Yeah, yeah it is. It’s something where I could really make a difference, y’know?” I replied. After a moment of silent eating I asked, “So what do you want to do?”

Ivar nearly choked on his shake, and it took him awhile before he was able to respond. “Honestly? I have no fucking clue.”

I swirled a french fry in tartar sauce thoughtfully. “You’re taking history, right? Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s not part of the deal.”

“The deal?”

“The deal.” He confirmed. “My parents let each of us study whatever we wanted in college as long as we went to their alma mater, and as long as we understood that we were going into the family business after.”

“And you’re okay with that?” I asked.

“I-”

He was interrupted by the sound of two loud, familiar voices as they entered the restaurant. I could see his body fill with tension as he froze, french fry suspended in the air.

“Ivar! There you are!” Ubbe’s voice range out as they came around the corner. His face lit up the instant he saw me. “And Gwen too! What a pleasant surprise!”

Ivar watched with horror as Ubbe sat down next to him, Hvitserk sliding into the booth beside me. Covering his face with his hands, his voice was muffled as he pleaded, “Ubbe.”

“What?” Hvitserk asked. “This is nice. Very cozy. _Much_ more comfortable than a pantry, I’m sure.”

I’m fairly certain Ivar said something like, “Oh God”, but I couldn’t be sure. Anyway, I was feeling pretty uncomfortable myself, and tried to excuse myself to the restroom just to get away from the scrutiny.

In the ladies’, I splashed cold water on my face and took a shaky breathe. Looking in the mirror, I reminded myself that I was an adult and perfectly capable of going back out there and dealing with an unpleasant situation head-on.

As I returned to our booth, I found myself slowing to a stop just as I reached the corner. I could hear them talking, and what they were saying killed any courage my pep talk had given me.

“You’ve never been this tight-lipped before.” I heard Ubbe saying. “Come on.”

Ivar was silent, and Hvitserk spoke up next. “Can you at least tell us who won the bet?”

Still silence.

“You do know who won the bet, don’t you?”

Ubbe’s voice turned excited and his tone goading. “You do, don’t you? What in all happened in there?”

"Nothing." Ivar replied, deadpan.

There was a snort of amusement, and Hvitserk said, "If that was what nothing sounds like, I'd love to hear her when it's something."

I had to bite my own fist to stop myself from making a sound. My whole face felt like it might burst into flames with the realization that he was talking about me.

I heard a sudden flurry of movement and I looked around the corner just in time to see Ubbe wrapping both arms around Ivar, narrowly preventing him from launching himself across the table using his own body weight and forcibly sitting them both down.

Hvitserk stared at his brother in shock. Despite his quick reaction, even Ubbe seemed rattled by Ivar’s sudden aggression. He was still tensed, his fists clenched and body shaking as his brothers tried to calm him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ivar.” Hvitserk repeated soothingly. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

When he finally stopped trembling with rage, Ubbe slowly released Ivar from his grasp, but left one arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Ivar said, his voice sounding like he was a little bewildered himself.

“Of course, Ivar.” Ubbe tried to reassure him.

“It’s kind of hard to get a girl to go out with you when your brothers keep acting like assholes.”

Hvitserk nodded in agreement. “Yup, yeah, I could see how that- wait, what did you say?”

From where I stood, I could just see a smile wrinkle the side of Ubbe’s face. “Really? You mean that, brother?”

Ivar shrugged. “I… I think so.”

By now, I was starting to feel guilty about my eavesdropping. I did my best to pull myself together, shove down the questions running through my head about ‘the bet’, and walk around the corner as casually as possible, as if I hadn’t just heard Ivar confess that he wanted to go out with me.

Ubbe was the first to notice me, and he quickly welcomed me back, likely to key Hvitserk in to the fact that I had returned.

“Well!” He said, trying to appear casual and ending up sounding weirdly awkward. “We should go now.”

“What?” Hvitserk looked at him, crestfallen. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

Ubbe’s grin became tight as he grabbed his brother’s arm and began to drag him out of the booth. “We should _go now_ , Hvitserk.”

Realization lit up his face as he gave an understanding, “Ooooh, yes.”

They left with many unsubtle winks thrown in Ivar’s direction as he laid his face in his folded arms and tried not to cry from embarrassment. I allowed him a few minutes to recover his cool and ate more of my food, which was just as amazing as I’d hoped.

“I am _so_ sorry about that.” A dim voice finally said.

“You’re really going to tell me that was more awkward than Alfred?”

He finally peeked up at me, deadpan. “Yes.”

I couldn’t restrain a smile. “Well then, I guess we’re even.”

A grin broke out on Ivar’s face, exposing his perfect, pointed teeth. Involuntarily, the memory of him biting lightly into my skin last morning came to me and my breath hitched in my throat.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

I nodded, briefly distracted by the images and sensations that came flooding back to me. Something flickered in Ivar’s eyes, and I knew that he knew where my mind had gone.

“Finish eating.” His boot tapped my foot under the table. “I’ll walk you back to class.”

~...~

Halfway through our stroll to my next lecture, Ivar’s cell began to give off relentless pinging sounds. He paused in the middle of his sentence to check the deluge of texts, and his eyebrows rose. He tipped the screen, indicating that he wanted me to look too. I stepped up beside him to peer over his shoulder, letting my cheek rest on the soft leather covering his arm.

 **Alfred the Great** : care 2 xplain why i’m geting calls from ½ the campus 2 tell me they saw u at helga’s with my sister?

 **Alfred the Great:** seriously man?

 **Alfred the Great:** ud better have a real good explanation for this

 **Alfred the Great:** im at home. ud better get ur broken ass over here asap

 **Alfred the Great:** im not joking around

“How does he write ‘explanation’ correctly, but can’t manage to type ‘your’?” Ivar wondered aloud.

“It’s one of the great mysteries of the universe.” I replied, trying to tamp down on the rage that was building up inside me. “Come on. We’d better go see him before he gives himself an apoplexy or something.”

Ivar bit his lip and nodded. “You don’t have to come.”

“Like hell I don’t.” I muttered. There was no way I was going to let this conversation happen without me.

~...~

We found Alfred in the kitchen, looking just about as pissed as I’d ever seen him in my life. It was actually a pretty impressive sight, what with him white-knuckling the countertop like he was approaching the first drop on a rollercoaster. His jaw was approaching a level of tension that could give Ivar a run for his money.

When he saw the two of us walk in together, he looked like he really might have a heart attack. He just barely managed to choke out, “Are you _kidding_ me?”

I turned to Ivar with the sweetest smile possible and said, “You may want to cover your ears.” before turning back to my brother and shouting, “You must be out of your GODDAMN MIND if you think you have any say in who I go to lunch with, you weasel-headed TIT!”

“Gwen, I swear I am not being an irrational asshole here. I just happen to know this guy a hell of a lot better than you do.” He was trying to remain calm, which was unusual. Alfred and I didn’t argue on a regular basis, but when we did, it tended to be loud, intense, and filled with random insults.

“I told you,” Ivar interrupted us “I’m not going to do anything to hurt her.”

Alfred’s focus snapped from me to him. “Here’s the thing, Ivar, beyond the fact that our brother is an overprotective, stressed-out lunatic, I don’t believe you actually have any clue what would or would not hurt her. I like you man, I really do. But I don’t like the way you treat the women you’ve been with. I don’t like the way people _talk_ about them. I’m not sure what kind of a game you’re playing, but I’m not going to stand by and watch while you turn my sister into another notch on your bedpost.”

I took a breathe to start my own tirade, but I never got the chance. Ivar began to speak, calmly and earnestly, sending both me and Alfred into a stunned silence as he said, “You’re right.”

“What?”

“I’ve been a complete asshole before. But I swear to you that I would never do that to Gwen. That’s why I asked her to lunch today. I want to just… spend time with her, get to know her.”

Alfred was confused. “So you… are you saying that you want to date Gwen?”

Ivar smiled. “Is that so hard to imagine?”

He opened his mouth to reply, and then realized I was standing right there and was still royally ticked off with him. He wisely rethought whatever he was about to say.

“You’re serious?”

Ivar nodded.

Alfred looked at me. “And you like him too?”

I could see Ivar lean over in my peripheral vision, watching carefully for my response. I blushed as I gave a small nod.

“Look,” Alfred sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers, “just promise me one thing. Try and keep this one the down-low until we can tell Aethelred. He’s been stressed as hell with the season starting and being the new captain. Once things get going he’ll be calmer and _probably_ won’t fly off the handle.”

Ivar frowned, and was obviously about to refuse, but I stopped him. “He’s right.”

“This is ridiculous.” He protested.

I curled my fingers into the sleeve of his jacket, looking up at him imploringly. “Please, Ivar? Just for a little while.”

“This is important to you?” He asked, already looking defeated.

“It is.”

He finally nodded. “Fine, fine.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped away for a minute before handing it to me. “Gimme your number. We’ll figure out somewhere to hang out where there aren’t so many people.”

I entered my phone number into the new contact Ivar had called ‘Ginger’. My stomach fluttered as I realized that this was really happening. He wanted to go out with me. Like, a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. We were going to hang out and talk and - and, I really wanted to kiss him right now, but I had just enough sympathy for my brother not to launch myself at Ivar right in front of him.

I had to go to class right after that, so I reluctantly left Ivar and Alfred to themselves. I don’t know what they talked about, but whatever was said, Alfred was a lot more accepting of my new relationship when I got back later. That evening, I got my first text from Ivar.

 **Unknown number:** Can you drive a stick?

 **Me:** Ivar?

 **Unknown number:** Yup.

 **Me:** Was that some kind of a euphemism?

 **Ivar:** -_-

 **Ivar:** No.

 **Me:** Oh.

 **Me:** Yes, I can.

 **Ivar:** Perfect. You have a few hours free tomorrow?

 **Me:** I don’t have any classes between 12 and 3 most days.

 **Ivar:** Meet me at my place at 12:30 tomorrow?

 **Ivar:** You still there?

 **Me:** Sure.

 **Me:** I’ll see you then.

 **Ivar:** See ya, Ginger!

~...~

Ivar was waiting outside the fraternity when I walked up, leaning against a cherry red convertible. Even someone with my limited knowledge of cars knew a classic muscle car when they saw one, and this one was in pristine condition.

When he saw me, he grinned and motioned to it with a wide-sweeping arm. “I wanted you to meet the other redhead in my life.”

I had to forcefully close my jaw. A quick look at the back told me it was a Chevrolet Impala, but beyond that all I knew was that the thing before me was both a work of art and the product of extreme care and devotion.

“I thought we could take a drive out into the country.”

All I could do was nod dumbly and stare. Ivar shifted uncomfortably, suddenly looking nervous.

“You said you could drive a stick…” He muttered, and my eyes widened.

“You’re letting _me_ drive?”

Ivar nodded. “Well, yeah, if I’m going to trust anyone to drive my girl it’s going to be my other girl.”

I was his girl? I was his girl!? Ivar had just called me his girl! I had to restrain myself from doing a dorky little dance of happiness, and settled for wrapping my arms around his torso and hiding my face in his chest. He laughed and hugged me back with one arm, pleased with my reaction.

I took a moment to surreptitiously rub my nose against the soft fabric of his shirt and take a few deep breathes of his warm, woodsy scent. He squeezed me a little tighter one last time before letting me go to open the driver’s side door for me.

The interior was all tan leather and red and silver metal. I took a moment to run my hands appreciatively over the wheel before adjusting the seat and mirrors. By the time I was finished figuring everything out Ivar was beside me, dangling the keys on one finger.

The drive was smooth once I’d gotten the hang of maneuvering the big vehicle. Ivar directed me to drive on quiet streets where few people would see us, and where I wouldn’t have to deal with too many other drivers.

The college was already on the edge of town. It took only a ten minute drive for us to find ourselves in the middle of the country surrounded by rolling fields. I was a little nervous when Ivar instructed me to pull off onto a little country road. He seemed completely unbothered by the idea of me driving his car onto a dirt road and then off of that through the grass into a quiet meadow.

It was a beautiful, peaceful space, and I asked Ivar if he’d been there before.

“I used to come here alot when I was younger. The land belongs to some friends of the family, so I always knew I could come here without being bothered.”

He showed me how to put the top down so we could enjoy the scenery. He reached into the back seat behind me to retrieve a flannel blanket and an insulated bag. After tucking the blanket over our laps to ward off the chill, he offered me a thermos of hot soup, explaining that Helga had made lunch for us.

“You’re really close to her.” I commented, sipping the delicious blend of tomato and basil.

“Her and Floki both.” Ivar replied, offering me a grilled cheese sandwich. “My parents divorced when I was six and my dad wasn’t around much after that. They were there for me a lot growing up.”

I hummed around a mouthful of buttery bread and cheese.

“What about your family? You and your brothers seem really close.”

“It’s complicated.” I said, handing him the thermos lid so he could have a drink.

“I met your dad once,” he pressed on, “he seemed pretty cool.”

I frowned, confused for a moment before I realized who he was talking about. “Aethelwulf isn’t really _my_ dad. Me and Alfred’s father died before we were born.”

Ivar grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t know. So Aethelred’s your half-brother?”

I gave a confirming sound, but didn’t say anything to elaborate for awhile. It was a deeply uncomfortable subject that I wasn’t used to discussing. But then I remembered how he’d told me about his brother, and how difficult that must have been for him. It felt unfair to not at least try and be as honest and forthright when he was obviously trying to get to know more about me.

“Our mom had an affair.” I blurted, “She even ran off with my father, but then he died and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her family pretty much disowned her. I guess Aethelwulf felt bad for her. He let my mom put him on our birth certificates and he’s just kind of tried to take care of us. I know he would have done even more if he could, but his dad kind of holds the family purse strings and would only let him do so much.”

I peeked at Ivar to see his reaction to my story, and was surprised to see that he didn’t seem particularly disturbed by it.

“My dad kind of did something like that. He cheated on his first wife with my mom. When she got pregnant with Ubbe, his wife left him and took my brother Bjorn with her. Of course, then he left _my_ mom for a younger woman ten years after that.”

We looked at each other in silence for a long moment before bursting into disbelieving chuckles. Who knew the thing we would find common ground on was our totally screwed up parents?

“Let’s talk about something else for a bit.” He said, still smiling.

I wiggled around until I was sitting sideways in the seat with my legs tucked up beside me. “Do you like movies?”

“Yeah. I mostly like stuff like thrillers and mysteries. What about you?”

“Um, sci-fi and fantasy. And classics, too.”

Ivar smiled. “So I guess we’ll be watching a lot of Alfred Hitchcock, then?”

I told him that I’d love to watch Hitchcock movies with him. I’d always wanted to see more, but Alfred was kind of a wimp when it came to anything suspenseful, so I’d never had the chance.

When it was finally time to drive back, we reluctantly put everything away and raised the top back up.

“So,” Ivar said, draping his arm behind my head casually, “same time tomorrow?”

“It’s a date.” I said, sounding shy but feeling as bold as brass.

He gave me one of his wide, toothy grins that bordered between pleased and predatory as I turned the key in the ignition and prepared to drive us back to the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this sort of exploded on me. I'm totally blown away by the response to the first part, and I'm so happy that so many people asked for more! So here we are. I can't say that this story will be particularly plot-heavy, so much as moments from Ivar and Gwen's relationship over time as it progresses and develops.
> 
> With that said, I would love to know any bits and pieces people might like to see in the future. I can't promise I'll use everything, but I'd really like to see any prompts that you'd like to send in!
> 
> The awesome graphic, which is pretty much the 'cover' for the story as a whole, is by underthenorthstar on Tumblr.
> 
> P.S. If it matters to you, I went back to edit the first two parts to add in some italics and such that I didn't realize were lost when I copied them over directly from Google Docs.


	4. Part 4

Every day that week I met Ivar at the frat house and we went driving out into the country. Every day Ivar revealed another lunch that had been carefully created and packed by Helga.

And every day we found new things to talk about. We talked about cars, about how Ivar’s dad showed up on his fifteenth birthday with a wreck of a 64’ Chevy Impala. They’d worked on it together for an entire year, and for the first time, Ivar got to just spend time with his father. He’d worked on other cars since, but the Impala would always be his favorite.

We talked about the things that were important to us, and occasionally got in tiffs over differences of opinion.

-“I just don’t understand how anyone can follow a belief system that includes _literal_ cannibalism.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that the Eucharist thing is a bit weird. But look, it’s not like I’m specifically _anything_ , but I would be lying if I said my mom being Lutheran didn’t have an impact on me.”

“Whereas my mom fled a strict Catholic upbringing she and Aethelwulf got divorced and never looked back.”-

It turned out that Ivar’s work on the car had included a complete overhaul of the sound system, and we would plug his phone in and share our favorite songs with each other.

-“You know this song?”

“Everyone knows Billy Idol, Ivar. It doesn’t exactly make you a rebel.”-

But beyond the talking and the music there was… well… nothing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like Ivar kept a strict partition between us. He liked to hold my hand during conversations, and was always quick to respond when I hugged him at the beginning and end of our dates. But no matter how many times I thought his gaze lingered on my lips to long, he never once made a move in that direction.

It was confusing, not to mention completely fucking _frustrating_! By the end of the week I felt like I might either crawl out of my own skin, or crawl across the car and finally do something to _his_ skin. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t know how good he tasted, how his hands felt on and inside me. But I relived every detail of that night in the closet over and over in my head, until I was ready to scream from all my pent up tension.

Friday when I pulled into Ivar’s driveway after our date, he wrapped his hand around mine as I handed back his keys and grinned at me. For one heart stopping moment I thought he might be about to kiss me.

“So, whaddya wanna do tomorrow?”

“Ivar,” I sighed, “I can’t. One of my teachers is a complete psycho and has us reading, like, four chapters over the weekend, and that’s just for _one_ class.”

Ivar pouted, drawing my gaze to his mouth. “But I thought we could hang out and watch some movies.”

“I _have_ to study.”

He sighed, watching his thumb as it rubbed back and forth over my knuckles.

“We could study together?” I suggested hesitantly.

Ivar lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, we don’t really have any subjects in common but we could hang out in my room and… hang?”

I couldn’t be sure if he understood that I was trying to subtly hint that we would be together, alone, in my room for an extended period of time. He seemed pretty excited, but I was beginning to suspect that Ivar’s standards when it came to our shared activities weren’t especially high. It was possible that he would be just as happy if I suggested we go to the campus Stitch n’ Bitch and learn to knit, as long as we did it together.

~...~

I barreled to the door as soon as the bell rang, nearly trampling Magnus on the way. Ivar stood, backpack slung over one shoulder and leaning his weight on a black cane.

“Hi.” I greeted lamely, giving him an equally lame grin. No matter how many times we met up over the past week, every time I saw him I was once again reduced to weak-kneed bewilderment that this guy was standing there because he wanted to be with _me_.

“Hi.” He wiggled the fingers holding the strap of his backpack and smiled. “What do you think? I wanted one with a sword, but I think campus security would frown on it.”

I looked at the cane in his hand. It was simple; black with a bit of silver connecting the shaft and handle.

“It looks great!” I said. Realizing that he was probably pretty uncomfortable just standing there, I ushered him inside.

On our way to the stairs, we passed Alfred coming out of the kitchen with his afternoon cup of coffee. He halted in his steps, his face carefully expressionless.

“Hey, Al.” Ivar said, pleasantly.

“Ivar and I are going to study in my room.” I blurted, my eyes daring Alfred to argue.

His eyebrows twitched up slightly. “Is that what they call it these days?”

I glared at him, and he sighed and shrugged.

“Whatever. Just use protection.” He said, and started to walk off. I was drawing in a deep breathe to bellow after him when Ivar interjected.

“Will do!” He cheerily called after my brother, who I swear gave a slight shudder as he disappeared around a corner.

I was just preparing to scold Ivar, when Ealhswith peeked out from the kitchen.

“Gwen, could you give me a quick hand here before you go up?”

With a sigh, I nodded. Ivar went on to my room to get of his legs while I shuffled into the kitchen. Ealhswith was cooking dinner for everyone that night, like she did most Saturday nights when there wasn’t a party. Considering that she was almost single-handedly responsible for keeping the house nourished while studying, I was usually happy to help out when I could. Today, though, between the knowledge that Ivar was in my bedroom and my ever-growing sexual frustration, I was unusually irritated by her request.

“You and Ivar seem to be getting along.” She said in that subtly encouraging way that most women didn’t develop until they had teenage children themselves.

I made a noncommittal noise as I pretended to be focusing on frying slices of eggplant. Apparently, Ealhswith had found a recipe for moussaka online and was going to test it out on all of us.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” She asked, her tone affectionate. I made another sound to indicate I didn’t, and she smiled. “Well, just remember I’m here to talk to if you want to.”

“Yup.” I nodded. Having finished with my task, I wiped my hands on a cloth. “Good talk. I’ll see ya later.”

Ealhswith gave me an amused but understanding look as I scuttled out the door and straight for my room.

For some reason, I wasn’t actually all that surprised to find Ivar looking in my underwear drawer when I got there. He, on the other hand, stood frozen with a guilty look on his face as he slammed the drawer shut.

“I, uh,” He stammered, and then quickly tried to recover by pointing to a point beside me and asking, “Hey, what are these?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but allowed him to draw my attention away from the drawer, which I could see had closed on a familiar bright-orange strap. If, as I suspected, the $50 garment had been returned to its rightful owner, I was willing to forgive him the snooping.

Beside me was a small glass display case that hung on the wall. Each of the three shelves was filled with small porcelain items in the shapes of all manner of things from a gardener’s bag, to a gingerbread house.

“They’re Limoges boxes.” I said as Ivar leaned close to inspect them. “I collect them. These are my favorites, they all have something inside them.”

“Really? Do you mind if I…” Ivar asked, and I carefully turned the little key that kept the display case shut.

With extreme care, Ivar picked up each box, opened it, studied the tiny object inside, and replaced it back in its spot. The gingerbread house had a gingerbread man inside. A replica of Cinderella’s carriage contained a slipper. My favorite, the gardener’s bag, had a shovel, a hand rake, and a packet of seeds that could actually fit in the pockets on the side.

When he was finished, Ivar stepped back. Surveying the entire collection together, he shook his head and chuckled.

“What?” I asked, apprehensive that he thought they were silly or, even worse, childish.

“It’s just, every time I think I’ve figured you out...” He looked at me, “I mean, you’re insanely smart with all of the science stuff, and it’s totally _you_ , y’know. And then I see _this_ and they’re delicate and intricate, and that’s totally you too.” he laughed, apparently at a loss for words.

“I’m not sure I…”

He turned to me, still smiling. “I’m not sure what I mean either. I guess I just… you’re interesting.”

I frowned, still a bit confused. “Thanks. I think?”

Ivar shrugged sheepishly. I noticed that his expression was starting to look a little strained.

“Oh, here.” I said, “Have a seat. Are your legs doing better?”

I hurried to clear some books off of my bed to make room for him. He sat down with a wince.

“Kind of. I should have been better already, but there were some issues with my bones not healing right and they had to go back in again a couple months ago. The physical therapy has been helping, though.”

He started to swing his booted feet up so he could stretch out. I made an involuntary squeak of distress that made him stop and eye me curiously.

“Shoes.” I pointed to his feet. “Please.”

I could almost see the gears of mischief turning in his head. With a saucy smile and a wiggle of his head that suggested I’d asked him to do something _far_ more provocative, he began to slowly unlace and remove each boot in turn. I quickly turned my back to him to hide my blush. I could hear him snickering behind me as I sat at my desk and tried to focus on the reading for my genetics class.

Out of pure habit I opened my laptop to play some music. I wasn’t sure how Ivar felt about classical music, but it always helped me to block out other noise and focus when I had a lot of reading to do. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I could sometimes hear him trying to hum along as he switched between reading and scribbling in a notebook.

After a while, my concentration began to falter. I found my attention being drawn to Ivar. His big, long body lay sprawled over my floral duvet. The room was small, after my desk and wardrobe, even my full-size bed was a tight fit. It had always seemed plenty big for me, but Ivar somehow made it look tiny.

As I watched, he finished taking a note and returned to sucking on the head of his pencil. As if I really needed something more to draw my gaze there. If anything, my fascination with the black ring in his lip had only grown over the past week.

“Can I help you?” Ivar asked around the pencil he was still biting thoughtfully.

I startled. I was nearly convinced that he had a sixth sense of some kind. When I didn’t respond, his eyes came up from his reading to study me, eyebrows raised in question.

Screw it. I was done waiting for him. If he was really that blissfully ignorant, I would just have to put my big girl pants on and enlighten him.

His eyebrows rose even further and his gaze followed me as I stood up from my chair. I tried to surreptitiously wipe my palms on the legs of my jeans before balling them into fists and walking up to him purposefully.

There was just enough room left on the side of the bed for me to perch there. Without a word - more because I didn’t trust what might come out of my mouth than anything - I reached forward and removed the book from Ivar’s hands and setting it aside. He continued to watch silently.

I took a deep breath and cupped his face in my hands. I was careful this time to not rush myself. I didn’t close my eyes until just before our lips met. When they did, I could have cried from the relief. Suddenly, it was like no time had passed at all. He tasted just like I remembered. His lips felt just the same, the metal ring a tantalizing counterpoint to their softness.

So far, he’d shown no reaction, and a familiar feeling of unease was beginning to build inside me. I bit softly on his lower lip and then pulled back slowly and looked him in the eye. He looked a little stunned, his hand holding the pencil frozen in midair.

Then he smiled and, tossing the pencil to the side, he curled his fingers in my hair to draw me back in.

His kisses were merciless. There was no ‘battle for dominance’ like they talk about in books, because I felt no desire to do anything but follow his lead. He was passionate as he sucked and bit into my lips in turn, but always so gentle. He didn’t have to ask for me to part them for him, my mouth opened on a sigh and stayed open as his tongue swept in to explore.

We didn’t part until the need for oxygen forced us to. I didn’t even try to hide that I was panting for breathe, but it made me feel better that he wasn’t doing much better.

He finally loosened his grip on my hair to pet my head. Taking a deep, shaky breath he said, “If you even knew the amount of self-control I’ve been using this past week…”

I could feel a twitch start in my eye. Him? HIM? WHAT??!!

“You…!” In a flash of blind annoyance, I snatched up a giant plushie from beside him and began to beat him over the head with it. A week’s worth of frustration boiled over, and he raised his arms up to try and protect himself.

“Help! Domestic abuse!” He cried, although with a tone that suggested far more amusement than fear.

“There’s nothing _domestic_ about it, you little bastard!” I snarled.

Unfortunately, my weapon of choice was quickly wrestled from my hands. I was forced to sit there, arms crossed over my chest and glowering.

“What the hell even is this?” Ivar asked, inspecting the huge green cylinder. Big eyes at one end gave the toy an only vaguely anthropomorphized appearance.

“TB.” I muttered.

Ivar looked at me, then back at the toy with a slightly weirded-out expression. “TB?”

“As in, tuberculosis.” I said, snatching it out of his hands and hugging it.

“Uh huh.”

“It’s shaped like a TB bacterium.”

From Ivar’s face, I could see that my explanation wasn’t making this seem any less strange. I quickly gathered my indignation about me like a shield and tried to shift the conversation.

“Why didn’t you kiss me if you wanted to?”

Ivar sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, I’ve never done anything like this before. I really don’t want to fuck it up by taking things too fast. Especially since you’re…”

I quirked an eyebrow as he waved a hand vaguely. Apparently saying ‘fuck’ every other sentence was fine, but the word ‘virgin’ was just too much for his delicate sensibilities to handle.

But this was a conversation that was a long time coming and, before it went much further, there was something I had to get off my chest.

“Ivar,” I squeezed my plushie a little harder, “there’s something I have to tell you. That day when we went to Helga’s, I overheard you talking with your brothers.”

Ivar’s face went bright red. If there was any consolation for me and my infernal skin and its inability to hide a blush, it was that he wasn’t much better.

“How much?”

“Quite a bit.” I admitted. “You told them you were serious about me.”

His flush deepened, but he nodded to indicate he’d meant it.

“If that’s true, there’s something I need to ask about before this goes any further.”

“Anything.”

“What was the bet about?”

He was horrified. Instead of responding, Ivar fell to one side and started to burrow his head under my pillows. When I tried to move them, he gripped one over his face in protest.

“Come on!” I said, “Don’t be a big baby!”

He pulled the pillow away and wrinkled his face in mock pain. “I don’t suppose you would rather, I don’t know, burn me alive instead?”

“Ivar!” I snapped, finally truly annoyed with Ivar.

“Fine, fine.” He covered his face with his hands and mumbled through them. “It was a long time ago. I didn’t even remember it until you asked why they’d wanted you in that closet with me. But we were really drunk after a party one night and started talking and…”

“And?” I prompted.

He sighed, and then forced his confession out in a rush. “We were wondering what you looked like naked.”

I blinked, confused. “What? Why?”

Ivar pulled his hands away from his face so I could see him roll his eyes at me. “Really, Ging? Why? Because we were a roomful of guys suffering from alcohol poisoning.”

“No, I mean why _me_.”

My question sent him into a stunned silence for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish before finally blurting, “Jesus Christ, what complete fuckwit hasn’t been telling you how gorgeous you are?”

I tried to avert my eyes and shake my head ‘no’, but he captured my jaw in his grasp so I couldn’t.

“Because you are, and apparently you’re the only person who doesn’t know it.” he cocked his head and smirked, “You also have this… aloofness that drives some guys crazy.” the smile dropped along with his hand as he leant back, “So there was a bet about… what you looked like…”

His discomfort overcame him at that point, and he fell silent.

“Who won?” I asked.

Ivar squinted as if in deep thought. “Well, in the grand scheme of things I think _I_ di- OW!”

I’d given him a good, hard shove to show I didn’t find him amusing. As usual, though, he took great pleasure in my fit of pique. With a sly grin he took my hips in his hands and tried to tug me closer.

“Honestly, I don’t remember. It was pretty dark in that closet. Maybe you could think of a way to refresh my memory?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of a disappointment.” I scoffed. He gave one, sharp pull that tipped me forward, forcing me to brace my hands on his shoulders or fall over onto him completely.

“What?” It was Ivar’s turn to sound confused.

I watched my own hand pluck at the collar of his t-shirt awkwardly. The truth was, I had seen almost every single girl Ivar had been with over the past year. They were almost invariably of two body types, slim and athletic or curvaceous. I was acutely aware that I was neither of those.

The shape best used to describe me was a rectangle. I was thin where women are expected to be full. Any weight I ever put on settled disappointingly around my waist, but I lacked either the breasts or hips for it to be considered sexy. To me, my body looked immature and awkward. So it was strange for me that I’d been so comfortable being completely naked with Ivar in the closet. But I had also been riding some major endorphins; also, candlelight covers a multitude of sins.

By the time I finished muttering the basics of my feelings on the matter, I was ready to dig myself a hole and die in it. Ivar had other plans.

“I can’t say I noticed any of that, to be honest.” he said, “And I’m 99% sure that whatever I felt, it certainly wasn’t disappointment.”

The attempt to make me feel better was appreciated, but it just ended up making me feel more uncomfortable.

“Hey, hey.” he trailed his hands up and down my back, “I know things kind of got out of hand before. But I promise that I’m not expecting anything from you now. We can go as slowly as you need to.”

“But you still… want me?” I asked.

Ivar nodded.

I bit my lips for a moment before admitting, “I’m okay if… if you want to kiss me. I mean I _want_ you to kiss me.”

He grinned. His hands pressed on my back, encouraging me to lean in. To be perfectly honest, not a whole lot of studying got done after that.

~...~

So would you really blame me if I said that Monday found us back in our usual spot in the meadow, hands tangled in each other’s hair and tongues in each other’s mouths? It was amazing how much time we could spend just like that, making out like the hormonal teenagers we actually were.

Not that we didn’t still talk like we had before, there was still plenty of that. There was just also plenty of other things that kind of frequently distracted us from our train of thought. One moment we were discussing the pros and cons of a constitutional monarchy, the next our eyes met and we would find ourselves drawn back together.

Honestly, the passionate conversation was the actual cause half the time. Ivar would be in the middle of making his argument, and just the intensity in his voice and the spark in his eyes would have me leaning in closer than necessary. He would trail off at the sight of me, completely captivated by his energy. Then he would lean in and we were back at it again.

It was good. It was _amazing_. And by Thursday, we were both having to put a lot of conscious effort into keeping our hands above-board, so to speak.

His mouth was working at a spot just behind my earlobe that was making me limp. When he hooked a hand under one of my legs and physically dragged me across the front seat until I was straddling him, I was already too pliable to stop him. The only argument I gave was some murmured concern for his legs.

“‘S fine.” Ivar detached his lips from my neck for only the second necessary to reassure me before returning.

His hands roamed over my thighs listlessly before finally giving up any attempts at demureness and settling on my ass. I spoke his name on a sigh. This really was a much better position. It was so much easier to just duck my head a little and catch his lips with mine.

Ivar had no filter when it came to his reactions. It was easy for me to learn what he liked, what would draw out a particular noise. If I tugged on his hair a little roughly, I would get a gasp. A soft bite would result in a low, staccato moan. Sucking on his tongue made him hum.

Which was exactly the sound he was making when my hips gave an involuntary roll downwards.

“Oh.” I heard myself say faintly.

“Yes.” I heard Ivar hiss out on a long exhale as he used his hold to encourage me to repeat the motion.

It had only been two weeks since the last time he’d made me come. It had been _two whole weeks_ since the last time he’d made me come!

I think I lost my mind for a while there. I couldn’t think, only feel and move, rocking my clothed sex against him. His hands helped me to find a rhythm that made me lose control over my own vocal chords. I was moaning with every pulse of pleasure that shot through me. Even when our mouths came together in an open, messy kiss, I couldn’t stop the sounds coming out of me.

With a jolt I realized that I was close, so close. I had never gotten to that point so quickly in my life.

“Oh fuck,” Ivar whispered, apparently realizing what was happening by the little half-screams I was giving every time my clit rubbed against him through our layers of denim, “you’re gonna come just like this, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I managed to get out, knowing that he loved the verbal confirmation, no matter how small.

“Yeah? Do it, then.” He sacrificed the kiss in favor of letting his mouth run loose, “Do it, baby. I know you can. Wanna see your face when you come. Come just from riding me like this, fuck.”

My orgasm came over me gently. Weak in comparison to what I’d felt before, but still so, so satisfying after what seemed like an eternity without. Ivar kept me moving, helping me to ride it out as long as possible. All the while he kept talking; saying how pretty I was like this; how he loved watching me; how my skin was so beautiful when I came, all bright and pink.

Finally I let myself collapse against his chest. His arms held me tight, helping me come back into my own body and the moment.

“You-”

“No.” Ivar interrupted gently, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

He tipped my chin up so he could kiss me, long and deep. “I have somewhere to go right after this.”

I opened my eyes just enough to see his face. He didn’t look upset. He pressed one last kiss to my mouth before giving me a firm pat on the rump.

“Come on, we better get going. Ubbe’s supposed to drive me and he gets pissy if I’m late.”

I couldn’t resist stealing another kiss before sliding back over to the driver’s side. I was still a little overwhelmed from what had just happened, and it would have been nice if we’d had more time for me to settle back down. Maybe next time, because there was so _totally_ going to be a next time.


	5. Part 5

****

Friday morning Ivar texted me to say that he couldn’t meet me for lunch. It was the first time in two weeks that he’d cancelled on me, and my brain immediately went to everything that I could possibly have done wrong. Steeling myself, I quickly typed out a response.

**Me:** Is everything okay?

The two minutes before he responded were almost physically painful, but when it finally came I sighed in relief.

**Ivar:** Just don’t feel good.

And then I felt awful for feeling relieved that he was sick and not low-key breaking up with me. What would a normal, confident girlfriend do in this situation, I asked myself.

Of course, the first person who came to mind was Ealhswith, and the answer to my question was obvious. Chicken soup. Luckily, she had a crock pot recipe that didn’t require much prep time, and with her help I had a big pot of soup all ready to go by the evening.

Standing in front of the door to the Kappa Kappa fraternity house, I had to gather my courage once again to ring the bell. I was at least acquainted with all the members through Alfred, but I’d never really talked to any of them. Now I was showing up to present comfort food to their most disreputable member.

I felt a little better when Ubbe opened the door. Seeing me, he smiled warmly.

“Hey, Gwen. How’s it going?”

“Good. Ivar said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Ubbe’s smile fell. “He did?”

“Y-yeah.” I stammered, nerves back in full force, “I just thought I’d bring him something to eat.”

Glancing down at the container in my hands, Ubbe’s frown softened. “He didn’t give you any details, did he? Well, that’s Ivar for you. He had a rough appointment at the doctor yesterday.”

“Oh.” My heart fell. God, I must have looked like an idiot. My first attempt at trying to do a girlfriend-y thing and I’d already messed it up.

“You should go up and see him.” Ubbe hastened to say, “He’s been in his room sulking all day. Probably hasn’t eaten.”

Just as quickly, my heart lifted again. Ubbe guided me inside and up the stairs. I wouldn’t have needed the help to find Ivar’s room, though. All I had to do was follow the sound of The Ramones on full blast. Ubbe didn’t bother to knock before opening the door.

Inside, Ivar was lying on his bed, one arm slung over his eyes while he bobbed his head to the beat of the music. Ubbe had to yell at him before he looked up with a death-glare.

“You have a visitor.” Ubbe lightly pushed me forward.

When he saw me, Ivar’s face showed open shock. It took a full minute for him to recover enough to move to turn the stereo down. I don’t know what his brother was doing behind me, but Ivar made several quick, threatening gestures before turning back to me.

“I was worried about you.” I blurted, “I made you soup.”

Again, Ivar seemed completely flabbergasted for a moment before asking, “For me?”

I nodded.

“Wow… I… don’t know what to say. Have you eaten yet? Let me go grab some bowls and…” He let his sentence trail off as he hurried to get his cane and squeeze past me to the door. Just before leaving, he turned back with a twinkle in his eye, “Oh and, top drawer, just so ya know.”

At that point, I had learned enough about Ivar Lothbrok to know exactly what he was referring to. And since I had no interesting in snooping around in his undergarments, I ignored his suggestion. Instead, I took the time to take in what was plainly visible in his room.

If anything, the room was smaller than mine. The interior decorating scheme seemed to be more about fitting everything possible than ease of navigation. It was obvious what his priorities were. One corner of the room was filled with the largest bed he could make fit, shoved against the wall. Opposite that sat a set of practice drums. The rest of the space was filled by a set of drawers and a bookshelf, with only a few narrow strips of floor left to move around.

The walls were covered with pictures of bands and cars, interspersed with the occasional Polaroid. There were many of his brothers and a statuesque woman who I was pretty sure was his mother, Aslaug. A few had Helga and her husband. There were also several of a black-and-white lab mix of some kind, Ivar’s dog, who was back home with Aslaug. He called her Jojo, but her real name was Lady Joan of Arc because, even at fourteen, Ivar had been a total history nerd.

I couldn’t resist checking out the short bookshelf that apparently did double-duty as a nightstand. About half of it was what I would have expected, biographies and other nonfiction history books. The other half was dominated by Sherlock Holmes, H.P. Lovecraft, and Edgar Allan Poe, as well as more modern mystery and horror writers.

Ivar looked distinctly disappointed to find me flipping through a well-worn copy of _The Silence of the Lambs_ when he arrived back. He’d probably been looking forward to the chance to tease me over something, he’d certainly enjoyed every opportunity up until then.

“Have you read it?”

“Mm-mm.” I replied.

“You can borrow it if you want.” He sounded almost shy, avoiding looking at me by focusing on spooning the still-hot soup into bowls.

“Thanks.”

He smiled then, as if my accepting the loan of a book was just the thing he’d wanted all his life. It made me melt inside, knowing that I could make him so happy with something so simple. Just for a moment, all my doubts were swept away.

The soup had turned out pretty good, if I did say so myself. We ate together in silence for a while, both lounging on the bed at a 90 degree angle to each other so Ivar could drape his long legs over my lap.

I chose my words tentatively to ask him about what Ubbe had said about him getting some kind of bad news. For a moment, he went quiet and pensive, before hesitantly explaining that he would likely need another surgery.

“I was in the hospital for two weeks.” he muttered bitterly, “I had four surgeries and two months later had to go in for _another_ because my left leg wasn’t healing right. Now this stupid screw in my right leg backed out and is painful as fuck and they tell me the only way to fix it is to go in again and remove it.”

I rubbed his leg in sympathy, unsure of what else I could do to help.

Ivar sighed. “I’m just really tired of all this. I want it to be over already so I can get on with my life.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked hesitantly.

He shook his head in response, but gave me a quick smile to reassure that he appreciated the offer. A thought occurred to me, and my face heated up at the way my mind seemed to have become completely hijacked by my hormones. Ivar, of course, noticed immediately, and his smile became a sly grin.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing.”

“Noooo,” he said playfully, “come on. What were you just thinking?”

I played with my empty bowl and spoon to distract myself from my nerves, to finally muster up the courage to say, “I was wondering if there was anything I could do to… distract you… right now.”

Ivar beamed and, leaning back into his pillows and splaying his arms wide in invitation, said, “Well, I’m definitely not going to argue if you want to give it a try.”

Slowly, I moved up the bed until I was sitting beside him. I took his own bowl from his lap and put both on the top of the bookshelf before turning back to him.

Biting my lip, I rested my hands on his shoulders. The now familiar feeling of soft cotton over hard muscle made my nerves tingle. The small burst of pleasure just from being so close to Ivar, touching him inspired me to be brave, to lean in and kiss him as I began to explore his body with my hands.

Ivar remained still, letting me set my own pace as I mapped out his torso, only moving to help when I tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt in a silent request. I hadn’t seen so much of his exposed body in weeks, and I’d forgotten how beautiful he was.

He looked like someone who was athletic and active but had better things to do than spend every waking moment in the gym, and I honestly preferred his body over the overly-muscled sort I had seen in my half-brother’s sports magazines. With Ivar, there was enough muscle to make my mouth go dry, but enough softness to be totally cuddleable.

I could see him wiggle his eyebrows, both amused by my brief moment of distraction and urging me to get on with it. Obligingly, I traced over his chest and down further. His belly rippled when my fingers played across it, and I looked up to see him stifling a laugh.

“Are you ticklish?” I asked.

“Don’t even think about it, Ginger.” He growled playfully, making me giggle.

“Alright.” I murmured against his neck, where I’d started to kiss and then suck at the spot I knew always made him practically purr with contentment.

I began to work my way down, littering open-mouthed kisses over his shoulders and chest. Curiously, I stopped to flick my tongue over one flat nipple, receiving a short, guttural grunt in response. Meanwhile, my hand had started to play at the waistband of his sweatpants, working up the courage to move down.

When I finally did, my hand just brushed over his clothed erection. I nearly jumped in surprise as Ivar’s head connected with the wall behind him with what sounded like a distinctly painful noise. He must not have noticed because he whimpered and rocked his hips into my hand when he realized that I’d stopped moving.

Through the fabric, I could feel that he was already fully hard, and I soon grew dissatisfied with softly rubbing him through the garment. I sat up so I could pull the waistband down, biting my lip again as his erection came free. But when I tried to pull his pants down further, his hands flew to mine, holding them in place.

“Don’t.” Ivar’s voice was rough with arousal, but strangely unsure as he explained, “My legs.”

I knew he must have a lot of scarring, and I understood that he wasn’t ready for me to see them just yet. I tried to assure him with my smile that it was okay and I didn’t want to push him beyond his current comfort level. That wasn’t what this was about right now.

So I turned my attention back to his cock. After stopping to wet my hand with my saliva, I carefully wrapped my hand around it, trying to remember the exact pressure he’d shown me before. He reached down to guide me again, but I swatted him away.

“No!” I said with a pouting glare, “I want to do it myself.”

Ivar held his hands up in surrender with a slightly affronted, “Oh- _kaaay_.”, and settled himself deeper into his pillows. He tucked his arms behind his head with an insolent look that suggested he expected me to soon regret refusing, and that he wasn’t going to help when I inevitably asked for it.

It was a blatant challenge, and my competitive streak was immediately riled by the audacity of him. With my gaze still locked on his, I began to stroke him up and down using everything that I’d learned in that one encounter.

Keep a firm grip and a steady pace. Let my thumb play with his piercing on the upstroke. Twist my wrist just so right _there_ and…

I smiled in triumph as Ivar’s eyes fell shut and he breathed out a nearly reverent, “Oh fuck.” When he started moaning quietly, I knew I had him.

“How am I doing?” I asked, trying to mask my smugness with innocence.

Ivar’s response was to moan louder and start moving his hips in time with my hand. I tried not to snicker too loudly, but he apparently had the ears of a bat because the next thing I knew he was cupping my chin in one hand, urging me to look up at him.

His pupils were dilated and his lids heavy as he traced his thumb over my mouth. When I felt him exert a gentle pressure against my lower lip, I opened to allow him to slip inside, and he watched with interest as I let it play over my tongue.

“Do you like this?” He rasped out, “You like playing with my cock? You like making me fall apart with just your little hand?”

“Mm-hm.” I hummed as I sucked on his thumb, taking in the salty taste of his skin. Out of my own personal curiosity, I reached my other hand over to cup his scrotum. The skin was so incredibly soft, I loved the feel of it as I tested the weight, rolling his balls gently in my hand.

“You’re so amazing, Ginger. So good to me.”

It was my turn to close my eyes with pleasure at Ivar’s words. His finger left my mouth so he could hold my face, asking me with a tug to move up.

Our mouths met in a flurry of lips and tongues, all finesse gone completely out the window as he began to climax. For a few seconds, all he could do was breathe against my mouth. With his eyes clenched and his chest heaving, if I didn’t know better I would have thought he were trying to breathe through some agonizing pain.

I tenderly kissed all over Ivar’s cheek and jaw as he gave a short, almost violent shudder and came. With a gasp he went limp against me and buried his face in my neck.

He nuzzled against me and sighing happily. I hardly minded, petting his soft hair as he recovered. When he finally pulled away, he slid down to lie completely flat, giving me the chance to assuage my _entirely academic_ curiosity.

His cum had spilled onto my right hand, and I studied it with great interest. The results of my analysis are likely unimportant to anyone but myself, other than that I spent several minutes at it. Finally, I tentatively touched the very tip of my tongue to it, only to find myself surprised by what I discovered.

“Ivar,” I asked, “why does your semen taste sweet?”

Ivar’s eyes flew open and, when he saw me licking his cum from my hand, a surprisingly high-pitched chortle burst from his lips.

“Fuck, don’t _do_ that, Ging.”

My gut plummeted. What had I done? I thought guys liked it when girls did stuff like that. But Ivar could have been different. Maybe he thought it was gross and…

“Why?” I blurted out just to drown out my own mind.

“Because my dick just got _very_ confused and it was kind of weird.”

Oh. _Oh_! That sort of made more sense… sort of.

“So, what are you in the mood for?” Ivar asked suddenly, “Hand, mouth, or both?”

Godammit, one of these days I was going to be able to hear Ivar say stuff like that without blushing. One of these days, I was going to be totally used to him seeing my body in all sorts of states. Unfortunately, it was not that day.

“I-it’s fine.” I tried to casually deter him, and ended up stuttering instead, “You d-don’t have to do that.”

Abruptly, Ivar rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me seriously. “Okay, out with it. What’s the problem?”

Words apparently decided to just vomit out of my mouth as I admitted, “I haven’t shaved my legs.”

Ivar stared at me incredulously. Blinked a few times. Glared a little. Finally he recovered enough to snap, “Get your damned pants off, woman!”

So, apparently Ivar wasn’t very particular about that sort of thing. Within minutes my bare, slightly fuzzy legs were slung over his shoulders and he was seeing how far he could work his tongue inside me while I gasped and arched into him.

Whiiich is pretty much exactly where we were some 20 minutes later. Don’t get me wrong, it felt good. It felt _incredible_ , but my body would just refused to climb to that final peak.

This was something I’d experienced many times before, and I’d hoped and prayed it wouldn’t be a problem with Ivar after that first time in the closet. Now it had reared its ugly head again, and I didn’t know what to do. Alone, half the time I would just get annoyed or overstimulated and give up. Here the issue was only made worse by the new level of self-conscious embarrassment I’d achieved. Ivar was trying to not let it show, but I could tell he was getting frustrated. A small wrinkle had appeared between his eyebrows.

“You don’t have to keep going.” I finally muttered, covering my face to hide my humiliation.

“Look at me.”

I did, and found that Ivar was gazing at me seriously.

“Are you okay?”

It was a little difficult to focus when his fingers were still moving inside me idly, but I managed to nod.

“It still feels good? It’s not getting uncomfortable?”

Yes and yes, I nodded.

“Do you think you can come if I keep going?”

“I think so.” I took a shaky breath and tried to will my eyes to stop stinging, “It’s just like this sometimes.”

Ivar nodded in acknowledgment. “Okay. Just let me know how you’re doing.”

And with that, he dipped back down to flick the tip of his tongue over my clit. He kept everything light, careful not to overstimulate me before I could finish. The realization that everything was okay, that he wasn’t put off by my body’s stubbornness threatened to overwhelm me and spill out onto the pillow under my head. I pressed my cheek into it, my toes curling against Ivar’s back as I struggled to control myself.

I was pulled back into the moment by the feeling of Ivar taking my hand in his, curling our fingers together in a silent petition for my attention. Looking down at him, I gasped. His eyes were dark, intense, and completely focus on my face. Beneath them, I could see his jaw moving as he worked to pleasure me.

At the sight of Ivar’s eyes on me as he worked the metal ball in his tongue over my clit relentlessly, my legs began to tremble. The one benefit of the involuntary long build up being, when I finally came, it was a deep, knee-shaking, face-tingling bliss that kept going on and on. I briefly had the thought that I hoped Ivar’s music was loud enough, because I couldn’t stop myself from screaming as I arched and rocked my hips against his face.

It took me awhile to come down enough to realize that I’d closed my legs instinctively, and that Ivar was trapped between my thighs. I could just muster the wherewithal to let my legs fall to the sides, but I couldn’t find the breath or the impulse to actually apologize. Though just guessing from the look he had, he wasn’t really looking for one.

“Oh God.” I finally huffed out.

“Nope, just me. Though I can understand where you would get that impression.”

I rolled my eyes, for the moment uninterested in being irritated by his shamelessness. Ivar had located my panties and delicately guided them over each of my feet, up my legs, and back into place. With a final kiss over my now-clothed mound, he gathered up the blankets that had been pushed to the foot of the bed. He tucked the edges around us both before snuggling into me, and I fell asleep with feel of his smile pressed to my cheek.

~...~

I hadn’t actually _meant_ to fall asleep, and I awoke hours later with the realization that it was now dark out. In a flail of panicked arms and legs I tried to release myself from the covers and clamber over Ivar at the same time.

“W’ the fuck?” Was the annoyed exclamation as he was rudely awoken by my attempted escape.

“It’s almost midnight! I have to go!” I hastily explained while desperately searching for my pants in the dark room.

There was a click as the bedside lamp was turned on, flooding the immediate area with light, and I glanced back to find Ivar, propped up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes in confusion.

“What, are you gonna turn into a pumpkin?”

“This isn’t funny!” I hissed, mindful that there were others in the house who were trying to sleep, “Alfred will be worried!”

Ivar sighed and grabbed my wrist as I fluttered by and, with little effort, I found myself sitting on the bed with his arms wrapped around me from behind.

“C’mon baby,” he crooned into my ear, “Alfred knows where you are. If he were worried he would’ve called one of us.”

He was laying soft kisses behind my ear that could have easily lulled me back to sleep, if I let them.

“Stay. Stay with me.”

“Why?” I whined, the final death spasm of my determination.

“You know why.” he said, “I like waking up with you.”

So that was that. I put up no further protest as Ivar got out one of his t-shirts for me to change into and guided me back under the covers.

~...~

“Ginger, that had better not be a fucking alarm.”

I pulled my phone out of my pants to silence the beeping that had woken us up.

“Seriously?” Ivar groaned when he saw that it was, “It’s fucking Saturday. It’s against the Constitution to set alarms for Saturdays!”

“I may not be the history major, but I’m fairly certain that isn’t true.” I replied. I felt amazing, completely refreshed after sleeping in Ivar’s arms all night, and was back to ‘not getting’ his jokes again.

“Well, it’s against _my_ constitution.” He grumbled as he buried his face back into the pillow.

He flinched slightly when the t-shirt he’d let me sleep in smacked into his head. I could see the moment he realized what it was, because one eye popped open in the hopes that I was still topless.

I foolishly turned my back to Ivar while trying to fasten my bra, giving him the opportunity to sidle up behind me and start rubbing his hands up and down my sides.

“I think I’m feeling upset again.” He said, plush lips brushing tantalizingly over my fingers as I fussed with the small hooks.

“Too bad.” I replied, “Some people actually have to study to keep up their grades.”

Even without looking I could tell that Ivar was pouting, but he finally relented. “Just give me a minute and I’ll walk you home.”

I tried to say that it wasn’t necessary, but he looked at me like I’d just said something really funny.

“I’m not letting you walk across campus alone at the asscrack of dawn.”

“You have such a way with words.” I said dryly.

Ivar smirked back. “I could bring my books and we could study together.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right, because I’d totally get a lot done with you there.”

“Don’t objectify me!” He exclaimed in a Southern belle voice, arms crossed daintily over his chest. “I shall not be blamed for lecherousness.”

He was not at all chastised by my threatening him with a sneaker. If anything, he found my constant threats to his health and safety to be quite charming. Anyway, I mostly did it because he liked seeing me react to his silly or lewd jokes.

We went downstairs, Ivar clasping my hand tightly. Several of his frat brothers were already awake, and he started shooting sinister looks the second he thought someone was looking too interested in my presence.

On the way out we passed the kitchen where Hvitserk was up cooking, and Ivar stopped to tell him where he was going. Hvitserk raised his eyebrows, but was careful to remain as neutral as possible as he nodded in acknowledgement. He gave me a cheery “Good morning!” before turning back to an omelet that seemed to contain the entire contents of the refrigerator.

~...~

Luckily Alfred wasn’t awake yet when I got home. When he did get up, he restrained himself to shuffling around with a sullen expression until he had his second coffee of the day and perked up enough to let Ealhswith take him out for the rest of the day.

I was still up late that night, unable to sleep until I finished just one more chapter on epigenetics, when I heard a strange sound. It was a single, short tap that was soon followed by another. By the third I realized it was coming from my window.

Opening it up and leaning out, I face palmed at the sight of Ivar, grinning up at me and tossing a pebble up and down in one hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked, torn between embarrassment at the possibility of someone seeing and a teeny tiny bit of a swoon.

“I thought you might be grounded.” he said with a laugh, “And besides, we’re supposed to be sneaking around.”

I groaned and shook my head. I’m not sure what I found more disgusting, his capacity for cheesiness or my own reaction to it.

“I would try to climb up, but…” He gestured down to his legs sheepishly.

I bit my lip, but then decided that I might as well go all-in and said, “There’s a small staircase right next to the back door. It comes out right next to my room. Wait just a second and I can sneak you up.”

When I opened the door, Ivar was right there to sweep me into a deep kiss. I gave in for a moment before pushing him away and gesturing to stay quiet as we tiptoed up the old servant’s staircase and into my bedroom where we collapsed into a heap of giggles.

“This is so ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Ivar agreed, “but it’s kind of fun too.”

We were grinning at each other, which pretty soon turned into an intense stare, which then became heated kisses and wandering hands.

Ivar moaned into my mouth as his hand travelled down my side to grip my thigh and pull it over his hip. I was already dressed for bed, and the thin camisole and flannel pants weren’t much of a covering between his caress and my hot skin.

I was burning up. My heart hammering in my chest. I ached in the place where Ivar rocked his hips into me, and all I could think about was what that would feel like without any barriers.

I pulled back to pull my top off over my head. Ivar’s mouth dropped open for a moment before quickly recovering and dragging me back against him. He didn’t hesitate to take advantage of my blatant offer. His warm hand came up to cup my breast as he started to kiss his way down my neck.

He was trying to take his time, but I couldn’t find any patience to let him. I roughly pulled at his jacket and shirt until he stopped just long enough to remove them. My hands ran over his bare back, and he obligingly rolled his shoulders so I could enjoy the play of muscle under his skin.

His lips finally met his hand on my breast, mouthing softy over the mound before sealing over my nipple. I gasped, gripping his arms as I shimmied under him, desperately seeking some kind of friction against my core.

“Ivar.” My voice was going high and breathless again as I tried to signal what I wanted. He hummed against my skin, and I had to fight for the breath to speak again. “Ivar, I want you.”

“Shh.” He pulled back to hush me before turning his attentions to my other breast, sucking on the nipple until it stood out in a tight peak before biting down gently.

“No,” I pushed him away in frustration. I needed to articulate myself clearly and I needed him to understand me, and neither of those things were going to happen while he was doing that. I took a deep breath before saying, “I know you’ve been following my lead with all of this, and I really appreciate that. But I don’t want you to hold back anymore.”

I could see Ivar frown for a moment before leaning back in to suck and bite at the softness just under my breasts. I finally just admitted it as bluntly as I could.

“I want to have sex… with you… us.”

Now he halted, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked up to meet mine. He smiled wryly and said, “What have we been doing all this time?”

“I’m being serious!” I protested.

“So am I!” He insisted with an incredulous laugh.

I huffed in annoyance. “Fine, semantics, whatever. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” I reached down to try and unfasten his jeans, but he quickly stopped me.

“Gwen, stop, you’re not ready.” He sounded smooth and placating, and I had to stop myself from instinctually decking him for the combination of words and tone.

“I’m _telling_ you right now, I’m ready.” I said, looking him directly in the eyes so he would know I meant it.

Ivar sighed and sat back, rubbing his face like he was suddenly very tired. “What if _I’m_ not ready?”

Already frustrated from feeling patronized, it was inevitable that I would take his rejection personally. Anger came over me and through clenched teeth I said, “Well, you were ready enough with half the other girls on campus! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me!”

Ivar sputtered in shock, mouth open, and huffed, “Oh, right. Because I say that I don’t want to treat you like a casual _fuck_ and I’m _still_ the bad guy.”

“How is this casual? You were totally fine with everything else, so what’s different about this?” I pulled my camisole back on, suddenly feeling exposed and trying to cover up the fact that I felt ashamed and hurt.

 

 

I could tell that Ivar was trying hard to stay calm, closing his eyes and taking several deep breathes before calmly replying, “Because it _is_ different. It affects you, how your first time goes, maybe not right away but eventually. I want to make you happy, but in the long-term and not just the short-term.”

The sheer, high-handed conceit of him! I made no attempt to disguise my offense as I said, “Oh, and of course I’m the poor, innocent little girl who can’t decide how to do that for herself?”

Ivar sat up, his fists clenched, and finally looked at me with a tense smile. “You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry. Why don’t you tell me? What would make you happy? Hmm? Do you want me to say that I’m just as frustrated and impatient as you are? Would that make you happy?”

“Yes!”

“So, _be happy_!” He snarled.

I turned away from him. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Really, I just wanted him to leave me alone so I could beat myself up for being stupid enough to throw myself at his head in peace. He seemed to be done with me too, because with an exasperated sound he grabbed his shirt and jacket and stormed out of my room. I could hear his cane pounding the ground and each door slamming all the way downstairs and out the back, and probably out of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me I swear I will fix it I'm sorryyyyyy!


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This… uh… kind of got away from me because… uh… important things had to happen. Yeah! That’s right! It’s important plot development! *Shifty eyes*

“Gwen? What’s wrong? What happened?”

It was Ealhswith. She’d apparently been awoken by the argument and peeked into my room barely a minute after Ivar had slammed the last door between us. Her face was creased with concern as she padded over to me. I could only shake my head and hide my face in my knees as I struggled to control the tears that refused to be held back any longer.

“Are you alright?” Her voice became suddenly anxious, and I immediately waved my hand, trying to stop her from reaching the wrong conclusion over what had happened. With a sigh of relief, she sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You had a fight? Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head again. She nodded in understanding and just kept rubbing soothing circles into my back while I sobbed my eyes out. I didn’t feel much like confiding in my brother’s girlfriend that I was pretty sure my relationship with Ivar was now over because I wanted sex and he didn’t. She seemed to realize that, and didn’t push me on it.

The next morning it was clear that the universe hated me. My period had come sometime during the night, and I was forced to do laundry just so I could have clean sheets to cocoon myself in. I tried to convince myself that it could have been worse, and it could have happened the night before when I’d stayed over at… _his_ place.

I dragged myself downstairs later to grab a few things I thought I might actually be able to chew and swallow. Ealhswith had apparently already ‘had words’ with Alfred, and he didn’t say anything about last night or my present state. He just hovered around, popping up randomly and then quickly disappearing again, all while looking a bit helpless.

The whole day ended up being pretty much a complete wash. I couldn’t focus enough to study, and I couldn’t stop myself from replaying our fight over and over, trying to figure out what had gone so wrong.

I was still angry at Ivar, but I was also confused. Sure, I’d noticed that he kind of had a thing for me being ‘innocent’, but he’d never made me feel the way I had last night. I’d felt completely dismissed, like a child being told they couldn’t have a toy they wanted.

Despite it all, though, despite the pain and the anger and the confusion, I was honestly just heartbroken. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to enjoy and rely on our routine. The thought of losing the lunch dates and long conversations made me want to send a million texts, begging him to forget everything that had happened and give us another chance. But then I remembered how he’d acted, and my indignation came back to me, quashing any thought of groveling.

~...~

It turned out, I didn’t have to. Ivar came to me first.

Monday I’d made my excuses to my teachers and holed up in my room with a heating pad and _The Silence of the Lambs_. It seemed a fitting read for my current condition. I’d never had especially bad mood issues with my periods. I did, however, experience near-crippling cramps along with heavy bleeding over the first few days.

Alfred had, of course, long ago learned to tread a fine line between sympathy and humor during my cycles. The humor because, as my brother, he is required to torment me, and sympathy because he didn’t want to die.

So when a fun-size Snicker’s bar bounced off of my temple and fell into my lap, I only glared at my book and tried to ignore him. Another hit my cheek soon after.

“Gwen?” I heard Alfred ask.  He felt strongly that interactions with me always went better when requests for parlay were made by throwing chocolate at my head.

“Go away.” I grumbled while unwrapping the candy and stuffing it in my mouth.

“You have a visitor.”

I looked up to see both Alfred and Ivar peeking around my door. I quickly averted my gaze, glaring at my book to show I wasn’t in the mood to communicate.

Alfred muttered something to Ivar, who apparently insisted he was going in. My brother responded by shoving the bag of candies into his hands with instructions to ration them out. He then made a few graphic mentions of what might happen if I became any more upset and scampered off.

Ivar approached hesitantly, probably taking in my fuzzy pajamas and the pile of blankets and pillows I had created around me.

“You know Alfred has this thing he calls a survival kit?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“Gee, I had no idea. Any other new information you’d like to share with me about my _twin brother_?” If there was anything that could remove the anxious filter between my brain and my mouth, it was pure salt.

Ivar didn’t respond. He did, however, pull my desk chair over so he could sit close by without invading my personal space. It was clear he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon, and I was finally forced to look at him just to figure out what the hell he wanted.

Puffy bags hang under his eyes, which are completely free of their usual black liner. He looked exhausted.

“What do you want?” I demanded, unreasonably annoyed that he should look like that, like he was suffering just as badly as I was.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for how to begin. Finally he sighed and said, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve already had Helga rip me a new asshole.”

I remained stubbornly silent, forcing him to continue.

“What I said the other night, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just…” he shook his head and started to ramble, “Look, I’m comfortable with sex because, yeah, I’ve done a _lot_ with a _lot_ of people. I can probably talk about it all day without an issue. But this, I don’t know how to talk about this.”

“What?”

Ivar looked down at his fidgeting hands, seeming almost embarrassed as he whispered, “Feelings.”

I averted my own eyes, suddenly uncomfortable with the awareness that Ivar was preparing to talk about something far deeper than just our physical relationship. And while a part of me was excited, another part wasn’t ready to let go of my anger.

“How I feel about you.” he admitted, “What this thing between us means to me. What I want it to be.”

TB had found his way into my arms, giving me a convenient way to block Ivar from seeing my face. He made a frustrated sound and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Just… tell me something. You want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.” I mumbled.

“Do you particularly care how it happens?”

I snorted. “Not really.”

“Well, I do.”

That blunt statement disarmed me, making me finally look over at Ivar in surprise.

“So let’s talk. That’s what I meant to say, that I meant for us to talk before going any further.”

“If that was the plan, I was not informed.” I pointed out.

Ivar nodded. “You’re right. I should have said something earlier. I just didn’t want to bring it up and make you feel like I was pressuring you.”

I harrumphed while aggressively eating my other Snicker’s. I could see Ivar’s gaze flicker from that to the cord of my heating pad.

“Do you think-”

I quickly interrupted. “I’m going to stop you there and say that if you are about to suggest that the only reason I’m upset is because of hormones, I may have to punch you in the face.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Ivar replied with annoyance, “I was actually going to ask if that’s why you’ve been so horny.

I flushed deeply. “I got it, okay? You’re into the whole ‘good girl’ thing and you like it better when I’m not… pushy.”

“What? No!” Ivar straightened abruptly and sounded aghast that I would suggest such a thing, “Let’s get one thing straight, Ginger, you ask for anything you want with me, anytime, and I will _never_ judge you for it. I love when you’re assertive, okay? I just need you to respect that what I want is just as important.”

That didn’t exactly help me feel better. Now, instead of feeling kind of slutty, I felt kind of like shit at the realization that, basically, Ivar had said ‘no’ and I’d still pushed him to have sex.

“I’m sorry.” I crumbled. “I’ve just liked you for _so_ long and it’s hard for me to believe that any of this is even happening. I… I _want_ you so much, like I’ve never wanted anyone or anything before in my life. And I know it sounds really shallow and unfair on you, but I can’t help but worry that someday you’re going to look at me and realize that I’m this unsexy, awkward nerd and you can do way better.”

Ivar scoffed. “Well, I’m terrified you’re going to realize that I’m a complete fuckwit with a shit personality and you _are_ way better.”

To my embarrassment, I started to sniffle softly into my stuffy. It was then that Ivar touched me for the first time that day, rubbing my hand gently in an attempt to comfort me.

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s _no_ reason for you to feel insecure. Not about me, or your body, or anything. It’s not an issue of whether I _want_ to have sex with you or not. God knows I’m crazy about you. It’s that... this whole thing, it’s new for me too, and I love it. I love just talking to you and getting to know you and all your weirdness.”

I laughed a little, and Ivar smiled, happy to see that I was starting to recover my sense of humor.

“And I gotta be honest, I do think of you differently from other people I’ve been with. I don’t even know how to explain it, you’re just… it’s not that you’re a virgin so much as it’s so obvious that you haven’t been hurt by anyone before and it’s beautiful, and I just feel this insane need to protect that. This whole relationship is already completely different from anything I’ve done before, so I need this to be different too. Not casual or rushed but… but something memorable.”

I tried to hide my face again, but he gently cupped my cheeks and made me look at him as he earnestly continued.

“And I need you to trust me on this. Because I may be a fuckup with everything else, but I at least know this and I _promise_ that if you let me I can make this _so_ good for you.”

“You’re good at plenty of things.” I mumbled, trying to distract him from the fact that I was blushing and giddy after that speech.

“Maybe, but nothing I’ve dedicated quite so much time and effort into. I figure something good might as well come out of my whorish behavior.”

I winced. “I shouldn’t have said what I did before, I’m sorry.”

Ivar shrugged. “Hey, it’s true. I was a complete fuckboy and I’m just amazed you even let me near you, much less actively ask me to touch you.”

Squishing his cheeks between my hands, I waggled his head gently and scolded, “Stop that, I’m the only one allowed to abuse you.”

“And you do it so well.” Ivar said, then more seriously, “I’m really sorry for making you so upset.”

“It’s okay.” I gave him a tired smile, “I’m sorry too.”

He grew visibly nervous as he said, “Al, the other day when we talked about us, after you left he told me you get… really nervous sometimes.”

“Of course he did.” I muttered, and was quick to stress, “I’m not _crazy_. It’s not like I’ve ever been medicated or anything.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were.” Ivar hastened to reply. He paused for a moment, biting his lip before continuing, “I only mention it because it felt like you might have wanted to have sex just to get it out of the way, y’know? And I know you said you were ready, but girls say stuff like that all the time because they think it’s what someone wants to hear. I would just rather _not_ do something you _are_ ready for, than do it and find out later you _weren’t_.”

I thought about that for a moment. I could see his point of view and, to be honest, it had always been easier for me to do things if I didn’t have time to think and worry about it in advance. That night in the closet, the atmosphere had been so surreal, it had been easy for me to become swept up in the flow. My anxiety had barely been much of an issue.

But lately, I’d spent so much time with Ivar that the usual doubts and worries had grown less persistent. It made it easy for me to follow what my body and my heart were telling me they wanted. Maybe it was time to get my head in on the game as well.

“I understand. And you’re right, we should talk it out first, but I really do want to… have sex, I mean, with you.”

Ivar nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. So when you’re feeling better we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, is there anything I can get you? Midol? Tampons?”

I laughed. “You’d do that?”

“I have a sister who felt it was her personal mission from God to make all of her brothers as comfortable with periods as possible. Frankly, I’m downright ecstatic to be thinking of your uterus and not hers.”

“You have a sister?” I’d only ever heard of the male Lothbroks.

“Technically, I have two.” Ivar replied, “Gyda is eighteen years older than me - she has the same mother as my oldest brother, Bjorn - and Alof is four. Her mom is expecting again, but I haven’t heard if it’s a boy or a girl.”

My brain went a little squirrely while I tried to calculate how many years Ivar’s father had been having children. He gave a dry laugh at my expression.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. We all have to get together every year for Thanksgiving. At best, it’s the most awkward day of the year.”

“All of your moms too? That must be awful.”

“Oh, the moms all get along amazingly. What you need to worry about is when my dad manages to piss off all three of them and we have to run interference to keep them from teaming up and killing him.”

I couldn’t stop a bubble of laughter from coming out before hastily covering my face and apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s hilarious.” he said, “But really, is there anything I can do?”

“More Snicker’s?” I asked, making grabby hands at the bag in Ivar’s lap.

He looked down at it before shrugging and handing it to me, completely disregarding my brother’s instructions. Later on, he realized why that was such a terrible idea because I had no self-control whatsoever during this time and quickly made myself sick on chocolate, caramel and peanut-y goodness.

~...~

We didn’t go driving during lunch for the next couple of days. The weather was getting colder and I wasn’t in much of a mood for it. So instead we’d hung out in his room, talking and just generally lounging about.

Wednesday we’d ended up dozing on Ivar’s bed while I enjoyed the heat from the ThermaCare on my abdomen. He’d gone out and bought a box after seeing them in Alfred’s Period Survival Kit to keep in his room since he didn’t have an electric heating pad.

Of course, he’d also offered to help with my cramps in other ways. While he’d assured me he wasn’t bothered, I wasn’t quite that comfortable. He just shrugged and told me the offer stood if I ever changed my mind, and hugged me a little tighter in his arms.

I was suddenly reminded of the project I’d been working on between classes. I jumped up to grab my notebook, much to Ivar’s annoyance, before returning to show him.

He took one look at my list of questions I thought we should discuss, complete with multicolored fancy lettering, and burst into laughter.

“Ging,” he said when he finally regained control of himself, “there’s figuring things out ahead of time, and then there’s this.”

“Too much?” I asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Not if you want to vacuum suction all romance and spontaneity out of it.” He joked.

I tried to grab my notebook back from Ivar, annoyed with my own need to overplan down to the smallest detail to try and control my nerves, and him for being so amused by it.

He didn’t let me, holding the notebook far out of my reach and trying to soothe my ruffled feathers. The attempt was somewhat diminished by the fact he was still grinning as he said, “Wait, wait. There’s some important stuff here. Give me a pen.”

I got one from my pack, and he started scribbling while explaining to me as he wrote.

“Location is definitely important. I was thinking, and my family has this cabin up in the mountains that’s just a couple hours drive. If we went up there for a weekend sometime, we’d have the place to ourselves.” he sounded strangely giddy as he told me his idea.

“Why not here?” I asked.

“Uh, because I literally cannot think of a worse place to have sex for the first time than a dorm room next door to your brother, or mine for that matter. Now listen, this is a great plan.”

It _was_ a good plan. If we left on a Friday after classes and came back Sunday evening, we’d have almost two days to ourselves. And if things didn’t work out right away, we could always go again another time. The thought of not having any roommates or siblings anywhere nearby was also a definite plus.

“Music?” Ivar went on, “I’m so glad you ask, because-”

“No.” I vetoed before he could even say it.

He looked positively offended. “What? I’m just saying, if I were a girl, I’d totally want to have my cherry popped to Elvis Costello.”

“No.” I repeated, “The question is whether it’s a little cheesy or not. If it’s decided that music will be played, you will _not_ be choosing it.”

“I thought you liked my music.” Ivar pouted.

“In any other circumstance, I do.”

He finally acquiesced with a sigh before moving on to cross out “Position?” without comment before coming to “Tests?”

“I had everything checked when I was in the hospital. I can get you the results if you want.”

I felt strangely calmed talking about this. Maybe because it involved science and was something I knew well and understood. I told him that I trusted him, and we agreed that there was no reason for me to be tested since I’d never had any sexual contact with anyone but him.

“Are you allergic to latex?” Ivar asked, frowning in concentration at his writing.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll handle condoms. I’m guessing you have no preference at this point?”

I felt about the condom selection at the store about the same way most men feel about the ‘feminine hygiene’ section. It was strange and overwhelming and not something I felt entirely equipped to handle considering it wasn’t trying to fit my… equipment.

Ivar laughed when I told him this. “Don’t worry about it. We can experiment later, but for now let’s keep things simple.”

A tentative plan was made for the weekend after next, and I left Ivar writing out his own plans, along with a mysterious shopping list, which I was fairly certain was going to end up being more than a _little_ cheesy. It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized that there was one thing I really should get that Ivar just couldn’t give me, the advice of another woman who was mature and trustworthy.

~...~

“Gwen! It’s so good to see you!”

Helga came around from behind the counter to hug me like I was a long-lost sister.

“How have you been?” She asked, leading me over to sit in a booth. I’d timed my visit to be at a time between lunch and dinner when I thought she wouldn’t be busy, and I was right. The diner was, thankfully, empty. “Can I get you something?”

“No thanks. I actually wanted to talk to you.”

She smiled and and held up a finger for me to wait a moment. When she returned, she brought two mugs, a pot of hot water, and a selection of tea bags. I chose chamomile and stirred in a little honey while I tried to work up my nerve.

“I’m guessing this is about Ivar?” She asked gently, and I nodded. She gave me a wry smile. “He told me you two had an argument. I hope you don’t mind. I think he finds it easier to talk to me and Floki about these things than his own parents.”

I shook my head. “I don’t mind. That’s kind of the reason I came, I wanted your… well, I’d like some advice and my mom is great but her judgement can be a bit questionable, and I don’t really have any friends who I really respect like that except for Ealhswith, but she’s my brother’s girlfriend so it’s kind of weird.”

Helga was chuckling when I finally stopped for breath. She was about to reply when a voice called to her from the kitchen. An extremely tall, lanky man stepped around the corner and stopped when he saw me.

“This is my husband, Floki.” Helga introduced, “Floki, this is Gwen.”

Floki grinned at me. “Ivar’s Gwen? Well, this is a nice surprise. From the way he talked, I half expected he’d finally lost it and you were a figment of his imagination. But you really are just as lovely as he described.”

Strangely, I didn’t feel embarrassed by the man’s flowery compliment. He said it with a humor that made me relaxed, and a sincerity that made me think he actually meant every word.

Looking at Helga, she was not at all bothered by her husband praising me, and I got the feeling that there was a tremendous amount of trust between these two. She patted him on the arm and told him to go make himself busy while us girls talked. He seemed to find some coded meaning in that, because he smiled softly at me and excused himself, returning to the kitchen with a cheerful whistle.

“Now, what was it you wanted to talk about? I was fairly sure I’d convinced Ivar to rethink how he chose to communicate, but if he’s still being a goat all you have to do ask and I’ll have another chat with him.”

“Oh, nonono.” I hastily said, waving my hands, “Not at all. We talked it out and everything’s okay. That’s the thing, we’ve been discussing it and we…”

Helga smiled, encouraging me to just come out with it.

“We’re going to go to his family’s cabin in a couple weeks and… you know.”

One blonde eyebrow rose curiously, and she very gently said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you really sure you should be having sex if you can’t _say_ it?”

I blushed. “Yeah, but I’m fine talking about it with Ivar. It’s just… not something I’m used to talking about with other people.”

She nodded in understanding. “I see, and you wanted to get a woman’s input?”

“Not just any woman.” I clarified, “Ivar talks about you and Floki all the time. I wanted to talk to someone who’s already in a good, healthy relationship that I can respect.”

“That’s very admirable of you. And I’m flattered you would think of me.” She said.

“So I’ve talked about a lot of things with Ivar, but in some ways, he’s as new to this as I am.”

“You’re a virgin?” Helga’s question was kind but straightforward, and I knew I’d come to the right person. I nodded.

She went on to tell me some of the things she wished someone had told her before her first time. Things like, “Bodies make noises and it’s best to learn to find humor in it early on.” and “Try not to go into it with too many expectations. Just try to enjoy the experience as a whole.” and “It’s really common to get UTIs after sex so try to pee before and after if you’re prone to getting them.”

And while that was all extremely helpful, it was when she smiled slyly and said, “Now that’s covered, let’s talk about the less ‘practical’ stuff” that I started really wishing I’d brought my notebook with me.

~...~

So, it turns out that it’s kind of hard to stick to a plan to wait until a specific date when the two people involved keep trying to climb each other like a pair of spider monkeys. Ivar and I ended up doing a lot more activities in the public parts of our respective residences just because we were less likely to end up naked if we were surrounded by other people.

It was already understood by all our housemates that our relationship was being kept on the down-low, so there was no worry of anything getting back to Aethelred. Ubbe and Hvitserk turned out to be a lot of fun to hang out with. While it was obvious that they were still taking the piss out of Ivar on occasion, they were never anything less than welcoming.

Alfred, on the other hand, was unfailingly polite in that way that meant he was barely keeping his trap shut. He had been deeply disgruntled after our fight on the basis that I had cried, and he felt that he should be allowed one or two acts of violence even without knowing what it was about.

“What?” He asked one day after he caught me staring at him thoughtfully.

“I’m trying to decide what would cause you less heartburn, advance warning or short notice.”

He sighed and propped himself on the kitchen island, looking like his Crohn’s might be about to flair up right then and there before waving his hand. “Hit me with it.”

“Ivar and I are going to his family’s cabin and spending the weekend.”

Alfred went still, eyes shut as he tried not to react on instinct. “When?”

“The weekend before homecoming.” I said, a little worried that he was actually going to be sick, “We’re driving up Friday evening and coming back Sunday.”

“Yup,” he said, totally done with the conversation, “thanks for letting me know.” And with that, he left, mumbling about having something or other to do for this or that.

“Having brothers who support your relationship, gee. I wonder what that’s like.” I griped to Ivar that evening.

“You know, I’m kind of starting to wonder why you care what they think so much.” He asked.

We were up in my room so I could bitch freely without being overheard, head resting on his belly while he combed his fingers through my hair.

I sighed. “Because it’s kind of hard to hate people when they’re literally only trying to do what they think is best for you.”

“Yeah,” Ivar agreed sarcastically, “having loving family members is a real bitch. But that still doesn’t answer my question. You can love someone and still not beat yourself up for not having their constant approval.”

“I know, but Alfred and I, we’re twins. He’s always… taken care of me.”

Ivar made a questioning noise, encouraging me to elaborate without being overly pushy.

“Hard as it is to imagine, I was kind of a weird child.”

Ivar snorted in amusement, and I pinched his side, making him wiggle away from my hand and promise to be quiet as I continued.

“Like, I literally refused to talk to anyone but Alfred until I was like, four. And I remember being that age and feeling like… like trying to understand other people was like trying to learn a second language. But I always understood Alfred. He was like, my interpreter.”

“What about Aethelred?”

I smiled at the memories. “When Aethelred first came to visit, of course I wouldn’t talk to him and he got really upset. So the next summer he decided he was going to bring me a present. I don’t know where exactly he got it into his head that the thing that would surely win a four-year-old girl’s heart was a tiny porcelain box shaped like an acorn, but that’s what he brought me.”

Ivar looked over to my display case. “That was one of those?”

“The first one I’d ever seen.” I confirmed, “For some reason, I thought it was the most amazing thing ever. After that, I would talk to Aethelred and Alfred. Eventually, they got me to open up to other people too, but they’ve always been my… my champions.”

There was a pause then Ivar admitted, “Yeah, Alfred said something about that before.”

I rolled my eyes and made a sound of disgust. “Of _course_ he did.”

“Don’t be mad.” He nudged me gently, “He was just being a big brother.”

“He’s only a half an hour older than me.” I said, “And what’s with you defending him now?”

“I dunno. Shared interests?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ivar said, squeezing his arm around shoulders, “you.”

I looked up at him, a little annoyed. “I don’t need you guys to take care of me.”

Ivar laughed. “Yeah, you kind of do. But that’s okay, everyone does.”

“Everyone?” I asked, “You too?”

“Mm. But I like how you take care of me best.”

He gave me a suggestive grin and snickered when I pretended to be annoyed. We lay there for awhile, and my thoughts strayed to his legs.

“Ivar, I wanted to ask you something.”

He hummed drowsily, so I went on.

“Do you think I could see your legs? I mean, sometime before…?”

His muscles stiffened beneath me before releasing with a heavy sigh of resignation. Slowly, he moved out from under me and stood up, his hands reaching for his buckle. I sat up abruptly.

“I didn’t meant right now. You don’t have to-”

Ivar held up his hand for me to stop before calmly assuring me, “I gotta bite the bullet sometime. If I don’t do it now I’ll just keep putting it off. And you’re right, it’s not something I want to be thinking about when I’m trying to focus on us being together.”

Reluctantly, I nodded. I was beginning to realize that, like me, Ivar had an intense need to control some things. We just went about it in different ways. While I wanted plan and overthink everything, he would try to use sheer force of will to make things happen the way he felt they needed to go, even if the only thing he could exert his will on was himself.

Perched on my knees, I tried to radiate an air of calm as I watched him slowly unfasten his belt and jeans. His movements remained deliberate and steady as he pushed the waistband past his lean hips and down his thighs. I could immediately see the scarring, still purple and swollen as his skin worked to repair the damage that was done to it.

By the time Ivar straightened again, tossing his pants over the back of my chair, I couldn’t stop myself from wincing. The damage to his shins was even more extensive. I could only imagine the kind of pain he’d gone through, was still going through.

He shifted uncomfortably, and I found myself reaching forward to pull his shirt up. Expression strangely shy, he followed my lead, raising his arms up over his head so I could remove it. My fingers played along the elastic at his waist, waiting for him to clear his throat and nod before slipping his boxer briefs down.

Ivar stood before me, completely naked. I shuffled backwards on my knees, patting the bed beside me with a timid smile. With my hands on his elbows, I guided him to lie down again.

A part of me felt like a kid in a candy store. But there was also a part of me that remembered the times when I’d been like this, bare and vulnerable. Ivar had always made a point of not focusing all his attention on the parts of me I was most insecure about. Instead, he’d treated my body as a whole, giving every inch equal consideration. I held onto that thought and let it guide me.

Starting from his face, as nervous and overwhelmed as I’d ever seen it, I delicately traced my fingers over the lines and shapes I found so beautiful. His eyelids fluttered closed as I followed that with the barest touches from my lips. I made my way down his long neck and each of his arms, stopping to kiss the palms and each of his fingertips in turn.

Somehow it struck Ivar as funny. He chuckled a little and relaxed a bit more once I finished. When I moved on to his chest, he tucked his hands behind his head. I would have done a self-congratulatory fist-pump, but it didn’t seem entirely appropriate at that moment. Instead I went on down his torso, careful not to tickle him _too_ much, before moving down one hip to his leg.

He stiffened again, but quickly gave a shaky sigh as he visibly worked to make himself relax again. I was as gentle as possible with the sensitive tissue, tracing each line with as much affection as I had every other part of him. He already knew how I felt about his body, how it affected me. I needed him to know that to me, his legs were another part of him, and I wanted it _all_.

Finally having reached the tops of his feet, I looked up to find that a totally different kind of tension had come over Ivar. He was furiously biting his lips, eyes shut tight. The tendons and veins in his arms stood out under his skin, revealing that his hands were clenched behind his head. Most revealing of all was the way his cock was quickly growing, thick and erect between his hips.

“Mm, can I...?” I asked, feeling the need to check before going any further.

My answer was an immediate, frantic nod, and I grinned secretly to myself as I trailed my hands back up his legs. It’s not like I _enjoyed_ having such a strong, intelligent young man at my mercy… okay, actually I did. Not even a little bit ashamed of it. He was freaking gorgeous and, yes, I mean his penis.

Frankly, I’d been wanting to have the chance to - ahem - get to know him better, for awhile. I just wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. I usually tried to copy whatever Ivar did to me, but in this case, that really wasn’t going to work. So I just kind of… went for it, figuring that I’d let my curiosity guide me and he’d let me know if he didn’t like it.

He’d already been making quite, low sounds of pleasure as I worked him with my hand. But the instant my lips touched the swollen head of his cock, he gave a half-strangled grunt of surprise as his pelvis arched up.

“Ging!” He hissed out.

My first instinct was to apologize, but rationally I knew his reaction wasn’t from displeasure. Still, I had to ask.

“Still okay?”

Ivar gave a chortle that sounded like disbelief, but also a little bit like he was holding back tears.

“J’s, no teeth and…” he loosely waved one hand, the opposite arm now covering his eyes, “whatever. Do whatever you want.”

Oh. I could work with that. I happily went back to learning about my new friend, giving a few more chaste kisses before trying out a lick. One turned into a few more, and I discovered that I rather liked the taste of him. My licks became longer, from the base of his shaft to the tip, broad strokes with the whole flat of my tongue.

It helped that Ivar was always a very vocal lover. It made it easier for me to learn where he was the most sensitive. As I continued to explore, he urged me on with low groans and the occasional high keen when I found something he really liked. I could see him tremble slightly as he struggled to keep himself still, letting me set my own pace.

Fortunately for him, I was feeling merciful. Once I was satisfied with the fine sheen of saliva that coated his cock, I finally took the tip into my mouth, being careful to keep my teeth covered, and sucked softly.

“Jesus, fuck!” His voice sounded almost like a snarl, and was thick with desire.

“Hmm?” I hummed, not even trying to hide the fact that the corners of my mouth wanted to curve up into a smile.

“Oh you fucking tease.” he groaned at me, “You seriously love this, you… ugh!”

Apparently, the combination of sucking the head, stroking his hard shaft, and rubbing my tongue along the ridge in between was enough to actually make him, for once, at a loss for words.

“What was that?” I couldn’t help but ask, pulling back but letting my index finger play with his piercing, rocking the bent bar back and forth ever so slightly.

Ivar’s response was nonsensical gibberish that sounded distinctly frustrated.

“No, I’m pretty sure you were about to call me something.” I pressed, at that point just a little power-crazy, and more than a little aroused.

“Youuuu…” He hissed, jaw rolling dangerously.

“Yes?” I prompted, smiling prettily while he gave me a look that suggested I was taking my life into my hands by teasing him.

“You want me to beg?”

I shrugged. “Well, for a start.”

Then he laughed. Seriously, he threw back his head and laughed like that was the most delightful thing he’d ever heard. Then he looked back at me, his eyes dark with lust.

“Please,” he crooned. A shiver went up my spine, “I want it so bad. Wasn’t joking before, I’ve dreamed of your mouth. Got the prettiest mouth I’ve ever seen.”

My mouth and tongue went back to working him, but my eyes remained fixed on his as he moaned in relief and then kept talking.

“Should’ve fucking known. You’re…” he grunted, shifting his hips slightly before quickly regaining control, “ _such_ a bad girl, and just… ah… just so _good_ to me.”

At that point, Ivar couldn’t go on. I was humming in pleasure, and his head fell back as he began to gasp with every breathe, hips rocking against my bed but never pushing up into my mouth.

He gave one short, bewildered cry and started repeating, “‘M gonna come. Gonna come.”

I wasn’t ready to decide how I felt about him finishing in my mouth, so I was grateful for the warning. I pulled away just in time to feel his cock twitch in my hand as he came with a string of cursing and praising me to high heaven.

Honestly, I loved to see Ivar like this, spent and breathless. For those few minutes he lost all defenses. Briefly stripped of the constant need to tease and the exaggerated conceit of a ‘dude’, I could bask in feeling desired and needed by a sweet, intelligent, affectionate boyfriend.

So I was honestly shocked when I went to cuddle beside him for a minute while he came down, and he reacted by holding up a hand and groaning, “Don’t touch me, you evil woman.”

I sat back on my heels, crestfallen, and prepared to get up and find something to clean up with.

“Ugh,” he said as soon as he felt me move, “Get over here.” And he pulled me back down beside him. At the same time he rolled so he could wrap his arms around me and throw a leg over my hips, pinning me against him.

“Ivar!” I squealed, “You’re making a mess!”

He grumbled unrepentantly and wiggled against me, effectively spreading his cum all over my shirt. When I whined in protest, he sniggered and kissed me, thrusting his tongue in and out lewdly.

“You’re so gross!” I said when he finally released my mouth with a loud, wet sound.

He just hummed in agreement and tucked his face into my hair, content to nap just like that. With a sigh, I tucked my arms around him and relented to lying there with him naked as the day he was born and cum drying between us. There were plenty of worse ways to spend a few hours.


	7. Part 7

The problem with my anxiety was that it tended to be an uncontrollable force that paid no attention to what I actually wanted. So when Friday rolled around and I found the familiar physical sensations taking over, I was careful to hide it from Ivar, afraid that he would misunderstand.

At least I wouldn’t have to drive. Ivar had been cleared to get behind the wheel again and was absolutely giddy over it. To my surprise, he ended up picking me up in a small SUV that the brothers shared.

“No way I’m taking my car up into the mountains.” he explained as he helped me stow my bags in the back. “You gonna be warm enough?” he asked, taking in my heavy sweater and jeans, “It can get really cold up at the cabin. Are those the shoes you’re taking?”

I smiled at him sweetly, “Ivar, I will have you know that I am a country girl. I know how to dress for the outdoors.” I opened one of my bags to show the heavy jacket and hiking boots I’d packed separately from my clean clothes.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you.” Ivar apologized, giving me a kiss on the cheek before hurrying to open the passenger door for me.

We’d already planned to stop by a grocery store on the way. The cabin was always well-stocked with everything except for perishables, so we would have to get a few things for our meals. When I’d asked Ivar if he knew how to cook, he’d looked at me aghast and said that the man who pretty much raised him was a cook, what did I think? He had a point.

The time shopping turned out to be the easiest part of the trip. Ivar had a good basic knowledge of quality ingredients, and it was actually really fun to discuss what we wanted to make… when Ivar wasn’t trying to ride the cart around the store like an idiot.

“Sneak up on me one more time, Lothbrok, I dare you!” I snapped after the third time he’d made me startle. It was beginning to feel like the Jaws theme should have been playing over the sound system.

“Sorry, sorry.” He said, sailing past me with a merry grin.

With our ingredients and the all-important snack foods purchased, we were ready to drive up into the mountains outside Kattegat. Now, there was nothing left to distract me from my nerves.

“How you doing?” Ivar asked, reaching over to clasp my hand over the center console.

“Tired.” I lied.

Ivar smiled at me, eyes full of affection and excitement. “You’ve already had a long day. You should try and get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

I nodded, thankful for the excuse not to have to try and make conversation while my innards were trying to climb out through my throat.

~…~

To my surprise, I actually did fall asleep. An hour and a half later, I was woken by Ivar’s soft lips trailing kisses over my eyebrow and down the bridge of my nose, which I immediately wrinkled.

“Hey,” he protested gently, “Sleeping Beauty isn’t supposed to make faces!”

“Sleeping Beauty is the most messed up fairy tale ever, if you read the original.”

Ivar laughed and just shook his head. “Come on, we’re here.”

He gave me a few minutes to rub the sleep from my eyes while he went to unlock the cabin. I immediately saw why the SUV was such a good idea. Snow had already fallen in the mountains, and it crunched under my feet as I got out and took in the scenery around me.

The site had obviously been chosen as a getaway, in every sense of the word. The cabin was surrounded on two sides by a dense forest of trees. The other two overlooked a steep slope, revealing a view of the peaks and valleys surrounding us.

“I’d carry you over the threshold but…” Ivar called over to me from the doorway, looking pleased by my awed expression. I scurried to enter, eager to see the view from the inside.

It wasn’t a large building. It was designed to be an open, studio plan, with the kitchen to the left when you entered, the bathroom ahead, and to the right a space that combined sleeping and living areas, along with a huge bath tucked into one corner. Every wall possible was windows, often stretching from the floor the tops of the vaulted ceilings.

The décor was that perfect level of rustic without sacrificing any actual comfort that the wealthy were so good at. Lots of bare wood, the occasional set of antlers, and a stone fireplace dominating the front wall directly across from the huge bed.

“Um, Ivar?” I had to ask, “What exactly did your father build this place for?”

“I will have you know,” Ivar replied, pretending to be offended, “that until now no Lothbrok has ever brought a woman here who wasn’t their wife,” he averted his gaze as he added, much quieter, “at one point or another.”

“Uh huh.” I nodded. Then, seeing that he was going to try to carry everything in by himself, rushed to help him. He didn’t use his cane now unless he was really hurting, and he seemed to think it meant he was now Superman.

When we finally unloaded the car and got all the food put away, the sun was already starting to go down. We suddenly found ourselves standing there looking at each other, with nothing left to do but…

I smiled at him a little awkwardly, my whole being suddenly alert as I realized that we were finally here. This was what all the planning for the past couple of weeks had been about. Ivar stepped closer, cradled my face in his palms and kissed me.

And what would ordinarily have instantly made me eager for more seemed to have just the opposite effect. My heart pounded for all the wrong reasons. I tried to close my eyes, focus on the sensation of his lips and tongue, on responding to him with all the desire I wanted to feel but my brain wasn’t letting me.

Ivar pulled me closer in his arms, and all my body was telling me was that I was afraid and I needed to get away from the thing that was causing that fear.

“I’m sorry!” Burst out as I pushed him back from me. His arms instantly opened to release me, his expression filled with shock and then worry.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, still holding his arms wide as if to show he wasn’t going to make any sudden moves.

My own arms were wrapped tightly around myself as I tried to simultaneously keep myself from hyperventilating from fear and crying from disappointment. I just shook my head as I failed and silent tears began to flow down my cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ivar rushed to assure me while still keeping his distance, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to!” I shouted, making him flinch in surprise, “I want to, and I’m sick of this stupid… _thing_ stopping me from doing the things I want to do just because I can’t control it!”

Ivar was starting to look more than a little scared himself but he paused for a moment, giving himself time to process before responding.

“It’s not always like this?” Even though it was more of a statement, it sounded more like a question.

I shook my head ‘no’. “ _This_ is why I didn’t want to do it like this! If I’m not expecting something it’s easier, like my brain doesn’t have the time to decide it wants to freak out.”

Ivar seemed strangely calm now that he was getting information to work with. “Okay, so let’s do this. Don’t worry about tonight. It’s late, we’ve both had a long day, so let’s just try to get some rest. Are you hungry?”

I nodded. I hadn’t actually been able to eat all day.

“So I’ll make us something quick for us. Does spaghetti sound good? Okay, do you want to take a shower while I make it? Would that help?”

His voice was having a strange effect on me. My mind was slowing down. He spoke decisively while still being careful to give me choices. The simple yes/no questions gave me something to focus on. Maybe I was comforted knowing a clearer, more rational mind was doing the planning for me. It was actually kind of a relief not to feel like I didn’t have to think, didn’t have to try to solve anything, at least for the present.

“So let’s do that.” Ivar said, “Then tomorrow, let’s not worry too much about it. Think of it like this, we’ve hung out nearly every day for over a month now. This is just like that, only we get the whole day together.”

“And…?” I prompted.

Ivar shrugged. “And whatever happens, happens. No pressure.”

I obediently followed as he turned me by my shoulders and guided me towards the bathroom. As he went about starting the shower and adjusting the temperature, I got out my toiletry bag. When he was finished, he stopped to give me a reassuring smile and kiss my forehead before leaving, closing the door behind him.

The shower was actually pretty cool, one of those open stalls with the drain directly in the floor. The water pressure was truly impressive, and I took my time letting the warmth beat down on my tense muscles.

When I finally dragged myself out, I rummaged through my overnight bag for comfortable clothes, but came to a halt as I came to the small paper bag, stuffed with delicate tissue paper, that I’d carefully packed away that morning. My hand hovered over it for a moment before pushing it out of my mind. But it meant I had a bit of a problem.

I opened the bathroom door a crack and called out, “Ivar?”

“Yeah, Ging?”

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow? I forgot to pack pajamas.”

“Just a minute!” He replied. I saw him walk by to his own stuff, then came back holding a dark t-shirt. He gave it to me with another smile, giving no indication that he was affected by the fact I was only wearing a towel.

“Thanks.”

“No prob. Foods done when you’re ready.”

Ivar’s shirt fit me like a short nightgown and enveloped me in his scent. I finished with my after-shower routine and came out to find the little, two-person dining table already set with dishes of spaghetti with warm garlic bread.

We were pretty quiet as we ate, both pretty exhausted from everything that had happened. As soon as we were finished, Ivar assured me that the dishes could wait until the morning and ushered me off to brush my teeth before bed.

We ended up lying on our sides, looking at each other as the pitch black of the night outside, broken only by the crackling light of the fireplace, created a cocoon around us.

“I’m sorry-” Ivar started to say, but I stopped him, touching my fingers to his lips.

“You did _nothing_ to be sorry for. I just hope you aren’t completely freaked out now.”

He curled his fingers around mine, holding them there. “You think I came into this expecting you to be completely baggage-free?” his face flinched briefly as he said, “I killed my brother. If you could accept that about me, I think it would be pretty shit of me if I didn’t accept this.”

Until that moment I hadn’t fully understood that, though he didn’t mention it much, Sigurd’s death was still very much with him. His guilt would always be there, affecting him in one way or another.

“Just,” he sighed, reaching his free hand over to stroke my cheek with a thumb, “maybe tell me straight out what’s going on? I don’t always notice, and that was pretty scary for me too.”

“I was afraid if I told you, you’d think it was because I didn’t want to, and that’s not it.”

He hummed his understanding. “Then we’ll both promise, if you do your best to explain how you’re feeling, I’ll do my best to listen and not jump to any conclusions.”

I could agree to that. We _both_ had a lot to work on, and I don’t think it was just because we were so new to relationships. Just being who we were, our personalities and issues, it took a lot of patience to understand each other. But I knew, I just _knew_ , that if we fought for it and didn’t give up, it would be worth it in the end.

~...~

Whistling. Ivar was _whistling_. Either the Valkyries had finally won the championship, or all hell had frozen over, because Ivar was up already and _whistling_ about it.

“Morning!” He said as soon as he saw that my eyes were open. His hair was pulled back, still damp from the shower, and I could smell breakfast cooking, so he must have been awake for some time already.

“Watcha making?” I asked, sitting up and stretching.

“Eggs, bacon, biscuits. All the good stuff.” He replied.

As I walked across the cabin he halted in his movements and I could have sworn he was watching my legs, bare beneath his shirt, rather appreciatively.

“Can I help you?” I smiled, using one of his favorite lines to tease me while also appreciating the sight of him wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. God bless whoever invented gray sweatpants.

“Just sit down and eat your breakfast.” Ivar grinned, knowing exactly what I was doing. Later, as we were eating, he asked, “Wanna go on a walk?”

“Will you be okay with that?”

“It’ll be fine. We can take it slow and stick close.”

I agreed, trusting him to not push himself beyond what his body could handle. We pulled on our hats, coats, gloves and boots and tramped outside like a pair of kids, all bundled up and ready to play in the snow.

The air was crisp and clear. The morning sun reflecting off of the layer of pure white that blanketed the forest, making it sparkle like the world was covered with tiny, icy gems.

“It’s so beautiful here, and peaceful.” I said.

“I know,” Ivar replied. He’d brought a hiking pole to help traverse the uneven terrain, but he was moving surprisingly easily through the fresh snow, “I’ve always loved coming up here. Sometimes, all four of us would come up here together. A few times, Bjorn even joined us. We’d bring a couple inflatable mattresses and play dumb games to see who slept where.”

We walked for hours without realizing, telling funny or embarrassing stories about our childhoods. By the time we got back to the cabin we were in stitches laughing despite being nearly frozen to the bone. Ivar immediately set about getting the fire going while I made hot cocoa.

We’d both brought our own books, but I made him read his aloud to me while I curled into his side on the couch, sipping my cocoa and watching the fire.

And that’s pretty much how the rest of the day went. When we got hungry we made sandwiches. At one point we pulled out a game of checkers, but that quickly devolved into name-calling, and it was mutually decided that it wasn’t conducive to an agreeable atmosphere. We read more, talked, and in the evening Ivar prepared the steaks he’d painstakingly chosen the day before.

He, of course, preferred his to practically still be mooing, and teased that I was making him kill the poor creature twice when I wanted mine well done. Sitting down to our dinner, including sides of mashed potatoes and peas, I hummed happily at my first bite.

“Good?” Ivar asked.

“You certainly know how to handle your meat.” I replied.

Ivar sputtered, and had to put his knife and fork down for a moment until he could be sure he wasn’t going to accidentally stab himself.

“Oh no you don’t.” he said at my look of wide-eyed innocence, “I’m onto you, Ginger.”

I grinned. After spending the whole day goofing off with Ivar, I was amazed at how relaxed I was. He had been right, it was just like all the other times we hung out, only more so, and I was at ease and just happy to have been able to spend all that time with him.

We cleaned the dishes together, our hands brushing every time he handed me something to dry. Every once in a while we would pause, and he would let a finger run up my hand and wrist before letting go. It was strange how arousing I found it, those delicate, deliberate touches after a whole day of casual contact.

“I-” I had to clear my throat, and my voice still sounded like a whisper, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Ivar nodded, his eyes searching mine, and I gave him a shy smile. His eyebrows went up and he swallowed heavily, nodded again, and I slipped into the bathroom.

A big part of Helga’s advice had been that I needed to focus on myself for a moment. Pamper myself a little, do anything that made me feel pretty and confident. She said it wasn’t a crime for a girl to want look beautiful for a guy, but that a lot of beauty came from how I felt, and that was something I could control.

So I used my favorite soap and shampoo because the citrus smell always made me feel happy. I didn’t blow-dry my hair completely because I always liked the waves it had when it was damp. I used moisturizer all over because I liked when my skin was soft. Finally, I took out the small bag, the result of a special shopping trip Helga had taken me on, and opened it.

~...~

I opened the bathroom door to find that, in addition to the fire, Ivar had set a vast array of candles over seemingly every surface possible. He was standing with his back to me and had just finished putting the CD I had prepared, a mix of The Temptations and The Four Tops, into the stereo. The soft strains of the first song started to play, and he adjusted the sound to a nonintrusive level before turning around… and freezing.

I would never admit the amount of money I spent on the vintage 1920’s negligee, but the look on Ivar’s face made it completely worth it. Pale green silk with lace details in the softest pink, the fabric was opaque enough to seem demure until I stepped in front of the fireplace, and the backlighting revealed how sheer it really was.

It was the epitome of everything Helga had suggested, something that made me feel sexy but not overly exposed. The only thing I’d been a little unsure of was the length, it stopped right at the base of my hips. Only now I could see that Ivar was definitely appreciating the uninhibited view of my legs.

He actually shook himself as if clearing a mist from his mind. With a warm smile he held his hand out to me, palm up.

“Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.” I replied, while still coming forward to put my hand in his.

“You’ll do fine.” He said, putting one arm around my waist and drawing me against his chest.

We swayed together slowly, barely moving as we took a moment to orient ourselves to being close.

“Do you approve of the music?” I asked.

“Mm,” he replied, “why did you chose it?”

“It’s always been very… soothing. And Motown made some of the most romantic songs I can think of.”

Ivar smiled against my temple. “See, you really are a romantic.”

“All the same, I appreciate you restraining yourself. I half expected rose petals in the shape of a heart on the bed.”

“Actually, I couldn’t think of a way to get them up here without them wilting.” He admitted, and I was horrified to realize he wasn’t joking.

“You realize if you did that, I would literally have gone back into the bathroom and locked the door for the rest of the night?”

Ivar shrugged. “I know where the key is.”

“You may think you are very charming, Mr. Lothbrok,” I said, draping my arms over his shoulders as I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “but I would have you know that you are _not_ irresistible.”

“Oh yeah?” he grinned, sliding his hands down my sides to settle on my hips. He bent down slowly to brush his mouth down my neck, “How ‘bout now?”

“Uh uh.” I replied, but tipped my head even further back to give him better access.

“And now?” He asked, dragging back up before taking my earlobe delicately between his teeth and tugging.

“Still resistible.” I said, even though my voice was starting to sound distinctly husky.

Challenged, Ivar bent me back over his arm and laid siege to my mouth. Passionately, ruthlessly, he worked his tongue against mine, bit and sucked my lips until all I could do was cling to him and moan my surrender.

“Ivar.” I gasped when he finally released me, both of us already panting and needy.

He kissed me again, slower, thoroughly drugging my senses. I didn’t even realize he’d walked me backwards until I felt the bed against my knees. I lay back, shifting up until my head rested on the pillows as I watched him pull his shirt over his head. Tossing it aside, he crawled after me, his eyes dark and focused on me like a wild predator, and I held out my arms to welcome him.

Ivar stretched out beside me, and I curled into him, not wanting to lose a single moment of contact between us. As we kissed, his hand pulled my leg more snugly over his, drifting up to stroke firm circles over my hip, enjoying the way the silk glided over my skin like water.

“Fuck, you’re not wearing anything under this?” He broke away to peek down to where his caresses had moved the fabric up to reveal my bare hip.

I didn’t feel like answering. I just took his face in my hands and guided it back to mine a tad bit forcefully. Rolling my core against his thigh was quickly ceasing to give any kind of relief to the growing ache there.

“I got you.” Ivar whispered into my mouth, “What do you want, come now or after?”

“Now.” I whimpered, and Ivar nodded.

Even with all his skill, we both knew how unlikely it was for me to come the first time with intercourse. I appreciated that he acknowledged that without any fuss, considering how much personal pride he invested in pleasing me.

He sucked deep, bruising marks down my neck as he shifted us so he lay between my thighs. Sympathetic to my needy sounds he pulled my nightie up and nipped at the bone of one hip before working his way over to my sex, one hand lingering to play with my breast.

For once, there was no one nearby to worry about overhearing, and I didn’t hold back in letting Ivar know how much I enjoyed his attentions. I had no words to describe how he was making me feel, but I could still moan, and sigh, and whimper, and just cry, “Yes!”, every time he hit on something that sent another jolt of heat through my body.

It was almost disappointing how fast I came. Pleasure shot through me, forcing out a strange, low-pitched sound that in any other circumstances I might have been embarrassed by. For once Ivar didn’t linger, and was soon hovering over me with a question in his eyes.

“I want you. I want you, Ivar.” I said, still desperate for him even after that.

He hurried to roll off the bed and finish undressing, tossing his pants to the side carelessly. A look went over his face and nearly ran to his bag to grab something before rejoining me, blushing.

“Almost forgot.” He mumbled, showing me a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about the second item, but some random part of me seemed to think I should be offended? Something must have shown on my face because Ivar gave a distracted laugh as he settled back in against my side.

“Just trying to make this as easy as possible. It’ll help.”

He waited for me to nod before opening the bottle and pouring some onto his fingers. Then, watching my face carefully, he slipped first one, then two fingers inside me and began to move them. It felt different than anything he’d done before. While it felt okay, the purpose wasn’t strictly pleasure, but to help stretch and ease the way for something else.

When Ivar was satisfied he’d done all he could, he turned back to the nightstand to discard the bottle and grab a condom out of the box. As he moved to open it, I caught sight of his piercing and felt a jolt of apprehension.

I think I made some kind of distressed noise because Ivar looked up, followed my gaze and asked, “Do you want me to take it out for now?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, just gimme a minute.”

He didn’t seem at all bothered. As he fiddled with that, I kept myself busy by removing my negligee and folding it up on top of my nightstand where it was out of the way. When I turned back, Ivar was just finishing rolling the condom over his cock.

I lay back with a little wiggle to settle further into the plush mattress and pillows. A part of me wanted to pull the covers up to my chin, but they were all folded down at the foot of the bed, and I wasn’t feeling so uncomfortable that I wanted to take a dive for them.

Ivar moved slowly, parting my legs and settling between them, holding himself above me on his forearms while he searched my expression for any sign of doubt. My hands petted his shoulders reassuringly as I smiled.

“This okay?”

It took me a moment to realize he meant the position. I remembered how he’d looked a bit bemused by my wanting to decide it in advance. Honestly, it was kind of nice this way, forcing us to use our words in the moment instead of following a rigidly scripted plan.

“This is good.” I said, my toes curling in anticipation.

A few more deep, reassuring kisses and Ivar was reaching between us, grasping his erection and guiding it to my entrance.

“Try to relax as much as you can… and breathe.” Was his last instruction before gently pushing his hips forward towards mine.

My mind went blank for an instant, followed immediately after by an endless stream of mental chatter. This is it. It’s happening. Relax, it’s going to fit. Oh shit, it’s _so_ not going to fit. Keep breathing. Hey, this isn’t hurting. Why does Ivar look like he’s trying to do advanced calculus? Is he okay? Oh, this is so weird.

And then all of a sudden, he was there. Our pelvises bumped and his breath came out in one great whoosh just as mine hitched in on a gasp. I couldn’t fully identify my emotions at that moment, all I knew was that Ivar was inside me and I was feeling muscles I never had before.

He held still for what seemed like a long time before asking in a raspy, strained tone, “Are you okay?”

“Uh… uh-huh.” my lids fluttered as I tried to adjust myself to everything I was experiencing,  “Ivar.”

“Mm?”

“You can move now.” I rubbed my hands over his shoulders to try and encourage him.

Ivar was biting into his lips so hard I was a little worried. He cleared his throat and grunted, “Yeah, just, I’m gonna need a second here.”

A small smile creeped up into my lips. “Good?”

“Fuck, yes.” He said through clenched teeth.

I continued to rub circles into his upper back, feeling flattered and warm. “Tell me?”

“S-so good… so… fuck, don’t make me try and talk right now, baby.”

His babbling made me giggle in delight. He gave a small, experimental movement of his hips, then another. My mind wouldn’t stop trying to analyze this new experience, while my body faintly protested against it.

“Talk to me.” Ivar said, “Tell me if something feels good, yeah?”

I nodded, and he shifted a little, changing the angle, but it still just felt strange and a little uncomfortable.

Slowly Ivar reached up, took one of my hands from his shoulder and, keeping his gaze focused on mine, touched my fingers to his mouth. I curled them against his kiss, watching as he flicked his tongue out to brush them before drawing them in. He adjusted my hand so I was pointing with my first two fingers, suckling them. I didn’t fully understand his intentions until he propped himself up on his palm and guided our hands down to where we were joined.

Wet with his saliva, my fingers skated over my clit, and all of a sudden it wasn’t just strange. All of a sudden a bolt of sensation travelled straight from the nerves under my fingers down to where Ivar moved carefully inside me.

I gasped. Ivar grinned.

“There you go, Ginger, just like that.”

I kept moving my hand, following the rhythms I already knew to build the pleasure that was now racing through me. My other hand scrabbled at Ivar’s shoulder, searching desperately for something solid to cling to, but I couldn’t find anywhere to hold on to that wasn’t covered by a slippery sheen of sweat.

I moaned in pleasure and frustration. Planted my feet flat on the bed and arched so that Ivar’s next thrust stroked against the place inside me that made me see stars. He watched me intently, panting steadily as he worked his cock inside me. Then he groaned softly and buried his face against my neck where I could feel the hot puffs of breath on my skin.

The hand that wasn’t stroking between us was still looking for purchase. I scratched down his back and found myself gripping his firm ass, pulling and urging him to grind against me. He muttered things against my neck that were too muffled to understand.

I wasn’t even hearing the music anymore. Just the exhilarating, satisfyingly obscene sounds of sex; our skin slapping together; my own voice, sighing and keening; and Ivar, moaning and then whimpering as my curious fingers brushed over his cock, feeling as he moved it in and out of me.

And there it was. In an instant I knew and I cried out in surprise, “I’m going to come!”

Ivar’s face popped back into view, shocked and searching to see that I was serious.

“I’m going to come.” I repeated, gasping.

He looked awed as he held himself deep inside me, rocking his hips up and down to mercilessly stimulate my g-spot until I broke with a scream. Tears began to well as he kept working me from the inside as my fingers moved in sloppier and sloppier circles on my clit. Ivar fell down onto his forearms, cursing and groaning that he could _feel_ it as I clenched around him in rippling pulses.

My muscles all went limp at once. I tried to catch my breath, looking up at Ivar with a dreamy smile. He started to move again in short thrusts, his face contorted as he finally let go and sought his own release.

A part of me wanted to move with Ivar. To my surprise, it still felt almost as good as it had before. Every movement sending sparks of arousal fizzling through me. It’s just that I was having trouble locating my bones at that moment, so I just sort of stroked my hands up and down his chest and sides and made happy little sounds of encouragement until he finally bit his lips and went completely still. I’d never seen him come so quietly, holding himself deep inside for a moment before relaxing with a gasp of relief.

After taking a moment to recover, he pulled out of me, holding onto the condom with one hand. He looked down at it and suddenly seemed surprised, and then swore.

“Shit. Stay right there. Don’t move.” And hurried to the bathroom.

At that point, he could have told me he wanted me to wear cat ears and a tail and all I’d have said was, “Meow”. So I just nodded with a delirious smile and didn’t move a muscle. Still naked, he jogged back from the bathroom, a sight I was really enjoying until I realized that he was upset. He climbed back onto the bed and gently guided me to bend one leg so he could wipe my vulva with a damp washcloth. Glancing at it, he wiped a bit more, looked again, and finally heaved a huge sigh.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked, stirred enough out of my euphoric state to feel a pang of concern.

“You bled, but just a little.” Ivar sighed again, rubbing his face with one hand, “I’m so sorry. I really tried. I-”

He sounded devastated. I immediately reached out to him, pulling him into my arms and hushing him. He buried his face in my neck and kept trying to mumble apologies while I did my best to reassure him.

“I wish you would have said something.”

“I didn’t notice. There wasn’t any pain, Ivar. You didn’t hurt me.” I insisted, “It was good. You did so good. You made me feel so good.”

My whispers finally seemed to get through to him. He relaxed, putting his arms around me and breathing deeply.

“I… didn’t expect that.” I whispered, and I felt him smile.

“Neither did I.” He admitted.

We held each other tightly, almost desperately. Now that the high was fading, I was feeling shaken in a way I hadn’t expected. I’d always heard people emphasizing how it was okay for your first time to not really affect you. That you shouldn’t expect to feel any different afterwards. So I wasn’t prepared to react the way I did. I felt vulnerable in a way I never had before, even with everything we’d done before, and I didn’t fully understand why.

Was it the shared experience, the mutual pleasure in the act? Was it physical? Emotional? Was it just a byproduct of the release of oxytocin, encouraging me to feel bonded to a mate?

“How are you doing?” Ivar’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“I’m okay. I… I don’t quite feel like talking just yet.”

He idly combed his fingers through my hair. “But you _are_ okay? Is there anything you need?”

“I kind of have to go to the bathroom.”

Ivar snorted in amusement. “Alright, I guess I’ll allow it.”

I didn’t bother dressing, and the bathroom was freezing in comparison to the other room, so I hurried to finish so I could get back to Ivar and the warm bed as quickly as possible. When I did, I saw that Ivar had blown out all the candles and had the covers all ready to tuck around me when I climbed back in beside him.

“I missed you.” He teased.

I giggled and snuggled into him. I could figure out all that other stuff later. For now, I was going to sleep in my boyfriend’s arms; my gentle, clever, and occasionally infuriating lover.

 


	8. Part 8

For some reason, Ivar decided that the best way for me to wake up the morning after was to be attacked by the Kissy Monster.

“Ugh!” I groaned into my pillow as he pressed his mouth to my cheek, repeatedly smooching before moving to another spot and doing it again.

Ivar snickered as I tried to push him away, but he had wrapped his arms around me from behind and clasped my hands firmly between his own. I couldn’t move them. I groaned in protest and wiped my cheek on my shoulder while he, undeterred, showered attention on my nose like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

He finally pulled back, grinning down at me. “Good morning, beautiful.”

I sighed in resignation and smiled sleepily back at him. I wasn’t in the mood to stay annoyed, not with him beaming down at me and my own memories from the night before.

He leaned in to kiss my lips. Slowly, deliberately, reverently, like he was reacquainting himself with my mouth after a long absence. His hands relaxed so I could turn in his arms, cup his face and return his kiss with equal thoroughness.

When we finally parted with matching sighs, there was a moment where Ivar’s eyes couldn’t meet mine. He smiled sheepishly at my chin before flicking his gaze up for an instant and back down again.

“How you feeling?” He asked in a shy mumble.

“Good.” I replied, then admitted, “A little sore.”

Ivar frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not!” I laughed, “It’s a good kind of sore.”

His smile returned, and he nodded in understanding.

“How are you?”

He seemed surprised by the question, it took him a moment to respond. “Good.” then he laughed and added, “A little sore.”

“It was the walk, wasn’t it? It was too much. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’ll be fine.” Ivar laughed again, shaking his head, “But I was thinking maybe a bath? Whaddya say?”

I bit my lip, nodded eagerly. It was all the response Ivar needed. I could tell he wanted to bound out of bed and rush to get the tub filled, but he winced slightly as he stood. He limped slightly as he made his way to the corner, though he did his best to hide it.

I was torn. On the one hand, I was concerned at Ivar’s apparent discomfort. On the other hand, I also got to doze in bed while an incredibly attractive man prepared a bath to share with me, and just happened to have no qualms about doing it completely naked. The man even had a freaking bath bomb in his backpack to add to the water. From the bed, I could smell a refreshing burst of citrus and smiled.

“Ready.” Ivar called.

The wooden floorboards were icy cold in the morning, and I wrapped my arms around myself and hurried to his outstretched arms. He got in first, lowering himself carefully before offering me a hand. The tub was a size and shape where I could sit with my side against his chest, my legs draped over his as he held me close.

My thoughts drifted back over everything that had happened, and how it had made me feel. It was strange, if one were to view sex from a completely emotionless standpoint. Though he’d done it with as much gentleness as possible, it was someone compelling my body to alter to accept theirs. Even though he hadn’t intended it, I had been injured, and isn’t it human instinct to recoil when caused harm?

And yet, the whole experience just made me want to cling to Ivar all the more. I thought what a strange existence it was to be female, this need that seemed to contradict rational thinking. It felt like he hadn’t just entered my body, but he’d reached into my heart too, coaxing it into creating a space for him without my even realizing it.

“What are you thinking about?”

I could feel his lip ring rubbing against my scalp as he spoke.

“I… I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.” I replied.

Ivar tipped my chin back with a finger, frowning deeply.

“I’m just trying to figure something out. I don’t want to say anything until I know I can… be precise.”

He wasn’t happy, but I kissed him and smiled, trying to reassure him it wasn’t anything to worry about.

In an attempt to distract him, I tried to change the subject. “I want to ask you something.”

He raised a pierced eyebrow. I felt suddenly awkward, unsure how to phrase my question without coming off sounding like a complete ninny.

“I was just wondering - and it’s not like I expect much. I mean, it was my first time and I realize I don’t really know what I’m doing - but I was wondering… last night, was I… did I do… okay?

Ivar tried to disguise his snickering by burying his face back in my hair, but I could feel him shake with suppressed amusement against me.

“Hey!” I protested, “It was a serious question. I want to know, honestly. It’s just… it’s important to me that you liked it too. I mean, I don’t expect you to say it was the best sex ever or whatever, but I can’t help but hope it was okay.”

I could still feel his smile, but he’d sobered considerably. He took a moment before replying.

“Honestly? I couldn’t say it was the best because it was a completely different experience to anything I’ve done before. And honestly, I’m so into you that you could just sit there and breathe and I’d be insanely turned on. So yeah, you were way more than just okay.”

I smiled as I traced Ivar’s tattoos for what was probably the hundredth time by now. His hand had settled over my breast the way it tended to anytime he could get away with it. Oddly enough, it was only an overtly sexual gesture about half the time. Often, it was just something he did instinctively when he was trying to relax, like my breasts were some sort of comfort object like a security blanket.

He stroked with his thumb absentmindedly. Even if it sometimes seemed a little odd, at least it helped with my confidence level. Actually, at one point I’d said something about him being disappointed and he’d laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Disappointed? Frankly, babe, I don’t think I’ve been disappointed by _anyone’s_ breasts, much less yours. Mostly I’m too busy being over the moon that they’re _there_ and you’re letting me play with them.”

Yeah, Ivar had a weird way of comforting me, but it was actually pretty effective. As long as he remembered not to stick his hand up my shirt in the middle of watching sports with his brothers. Which, yes, had _actually_ happened before, although he insisted it was entirely unpremeditated on his part.

He bent his leg so he could rub at his ankle. The loose hardware actually formed a small bump under the skin. Luckily, the bones themselves had healed enough that removing the screw wouldn’t interfere with his recovery.

“Any better?” I asked, and he nodded, “How will it be after the surgery?”

Ivar shrugged, but his arms were tense. “I’m not sure. That one spot is the most intense pain right now, but everything is so fucked up in there, my legs just aren’t ever going to be the same again.”

I rubbed my cheek into his shoulder. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do?”

“Actually,” Ivar cleared his throat and adjusted his arms around me, “I was wondering if you would, uh… if you would come with when I have the surgery.”

I looked up at him, surprised and humbled by the request. Even though it was a relatively simple procedure, I knew how he felt about hospitals. But he wanted _me_ there, where he was at his most vulnerable, for support?

“Of course I will.”

He glanced at me with a nervous smile. “Ubbe’s driving me, but I… I just wanted someone there who wasn’t there… before.”

“I can understand that.”

While his family had all kinds of emotions wrapped up in the accident, I’d come along after. I hadn’t really known him before, or his brother, and I hadn’t been there for the most intense part of his physical and mental recovery.

“Just let me know when.”

~...~

A while later, I was lying on my stomach on the bed, resting my cheek on one arm while I watched Ivar prepare breakfast. His towel was riding dangerously low, and I was so distracted seeing if I could dislodge it with the sheer force of my stare that I didn’t notice he was casting bemused looks back at me until he walked up to me. One hand on either side of me, he leaned over with a sultry smirk.

“You know, if you actually want to eat today, you might want to consider putting something on.” He warned in a low tone.

I batted my eyes at him and stretched out like a cat. “Nah, I don’t want you to think that putting clothes on is a thing we’re doing.”

Ivar snorted as he straightened up, but took the opportunity to land a firm smack on my butt before sauntering back to the kitchen. I yelped and jumped at the surprise attack, but when Ivar looked back at me with a smirk, I just gave him an exaggerated pout in response. So far, he’d put a lot of effort into keeping his kinkier side on the down-low with me, so he must have really been feeling his oats that morning.

To make a great morning even better, I got French toast in bed. Although I partly suspected it had something to do with _him_ not wanting _me_ to feel encouraged to get dressed any time soon. We were driving back later that day, and neither of us wanted to rush the last few hours of our little vacation.

When the last bite was gone, Ivar set the plate aside and pulled me into his arms. Lazily, playfully, we lay together, kissing, stroking each other’s hair and skin. There was nothing urgent, no particular rush to progress any further.

Then he chuckled to himself, and when I raised my eyebrows in question he almost bashfully admitted, “I want you.”

I considered this. Physically, I definitely wanted to repeat the previous night, preferably as soon as possible, but I was still feeling a bit… odd, emotionally. There was also the small fact of…

“I’m still kind of tender.” I said, wincing apologetically.

Ivar’s disappointment lasted half a second before it was replaced with one of his dark, impish smiles. “Want me to kiss it better?”

_Why_ was I still blushing when he said stuff like that? Was it a chronic condition? Was my body just going to continue to be embarrassed by this shit long after I’d gotten used to it? At least _Ivar_ seemed to find it charming.

He rolled us so I was perched straddling him. I balanced myself there, playing like I was having to put a lot of thought into answering. “Well, knowing you we’d probably have to take another shower after.”

“Yeah, and…?”

I just giggled and cupped his face to kiss his soft mouth, slipping my tongue in to play over his.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, massaging my hips firmly.

I’ll admit, I got a pretty big kick out of the rare opportunities I had to get him back for all his teasing, so I just smiled and nuzzled my nose against his.

Ivar was starting to pout - though he would insist to his dying day that he did NOT pout. He had this thing where if he specifically asked for my go ahead, he just couldn’t go on until he’d gotten it. But the problem was that he only seemed to do this when he was feeling particularly impatient, and so just ended up making himself suffer because, as I said, I found it really amusing to see to what lengths he would go to get a response.

“C’mon.” He tried to coax, using his grip on my hips to rock me against his muscled abdomen.

I sighed and let my hips move with his rhythm. Just as much as the sensation, I enjoyed knowing that the wetness of my arousal spreading over his skin was going to drive him _nuts_.

“Ging.” He groaned, and I couldn’t resist a little smile of triumph.

“Well,” I sighed in mock resignation, “okay.”

The thing about teasing Ivar is that it always led to slightly… unpredictable behavior. So I’d been expecting him to just roll us over and get down to business, pun intended. I wasn’t expecting him to employ his prodigious upper body strength to lift me up and deposit me right over his face. The yelp that came out of me was, frankly, rather undignified.

I had to quickly grab hold of the headboard to keep myself upright because he wasted no time in commencing his attack. Hands still on my hips, he moaned happily as he rubbed his mouth and chin over me for a few self-indulgent moments before focusing in on pleasuring me.

Everything was still so sensitive. I clung and leaned into the heavy wood in front of me. Ivar repeatedly sucked my clit into his mouth, and every time he released it again with a soft _pop_ I thought my legs would give out. I could hear myself, faint and bewildered, repeating, “Oh my God. Oh my _God_.”

I just… I just wanted to _touch_ him so badly. I had to gather the few wits I had remaining to turn around without clocking him in the head with my knee. He was pulling me back into place almost before I was settled. Now I could brace my hands on his chest, slide them down to his hips to frame his erection.

With one hand, Ivar gently rubbed my back, exerting a slight pressure to indicate what he wanted. I consented, bending forward till I was holding myself up on my elbows while his cock twitched in excitement in my hands.

“Out of curiosity,” I found myself asking, “how many teeth have been chipped on this?”

There was a sound of frustrated incredulity as Ivar pulled away. I peek over my shoulder to find his disbelieving glower peering back at me from around my thigh. I grinned sheepishly.

“You want me to take it out again?” Ivar asked snappishly.

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I can manage.”

“Oh, goody.” And with that he went back, griping in an undertone about “obviously not doing his job right” and “going to suck it already or what?”

“Sorry.” I whispered, placing an apologetic kiss to the seeping head of his cock. His answering moan and the enthusiasm with which he returned to eating me out suggested all was forgiven.

The height difference, while not massive, was… not ideal. There was only so far I could go before he was growling and pulling me back. Not to mention it felt a lot like trying to pat my head and rub my belly at the same time. I was trying to use my minimal experience to pleasure him, while he tried to see how far he could get his tongue inside me, which just from how it felt was roughly in the vicinity of my cervical vertebrae. It was a little frantic, messy, and completely amazing.

Ivar didn’t seem to mind that I was a little clumsy. He kept encouraging me to ride his face, while the tension in his thighs told me he was fighting to keep himself still. It was like a competition where both of us were trying to win and lose at the same time. I’d finally think of something that I thought he might like, and then immediately have to stop because I was moaning helplessly and needed to put all my focus on breathing.

I’d just figured out a pattern of sucking and stroking I could keep up with minimal blood going to my brain when I felt him tugging on my shoulder.

“Huh?” I asked while my vision went blurry for a moment as his hand came around to pluck at one of my nipples.

From the sounds he made, he was trying to tell me something, but it just came out as a garbled string of sounds as I kept pumping my hands up and down his erection. Finally he just guided me to arch my back, so when he threw his head back and came with a shouted “Oh _fuck_ , yes!” he painted my neck and breasts with cum.

Immediately Ivar was pushing me onto my back, laying on his side and spreading my legs to redouble his noisy lapping at my sex while his hand splayed over my chest to spread his cum around. My toes curled into the pillows, I clasped my hand over his on my breast, and with a deep groan I came undone in a rush of delirious heat.

Ivar surveyed the mess of fluids on both of us with a satisfied smirk, cuddling the thigh his head was resting on like a pillow, while the other lay draped over his torso. I sleepily watched him and smiled. It interested me how strong my reaction was to just seeing _him_ turned on. It was so much easier for me to come when I was actively doing something for him too. I made a mental note that this was definitely something I wanted to do again… often.

Later on, when we’d finally dragged ourselves into the shower, it didn’t take long for hands to start to wander. I tried to protest that I was already feeling worn out from my first orgasm, but he pouted and said, “Please, Ginger?” so prettily that I relented. With the warm water falling over us, we brought each other over the edge again, limbs and lips all tangled together until it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other began.

~...~

The ride back we chatted about the coming week leading up to Homecoming and loudly sang along to the radio. Ivar pulled up in front of my residence and let the engine idle while we said our goodbyes. We’d agreed that he would drop me off without getting out to avoid drawing too much attention.

“Hey, let’s do this again soon.”

I nodded in agreement and leaned over to kiss him one last time while we were still in the relative privacy of the car. I couldn’t resist pressing a few more pecks over his cheek to his ear.

“I love you.” I whispered.

Ivar stiffened slightly. When I pulled back, his smile said that he didn’t entirely believe me, but he was trying really hard not to show it and risk hurting my feelings.

“What, you think I don’t mean it?” I asked, amused by the obvious effort he had put into looking like he completely respected that _I_ believed what I’d said, and he was absolutely going to be calm and pleasant and not freak out in the slightest.

“No,” he shook his head, giving me the most supportive expression possible, “I just think it’s been a long weekend and you might be feeling a little overwhelmed with things.”

I probably should have been offended, but I actually just found it kind of hilarious. I started to laugh.

“So you’re saying that I only _think_ I love you because we had sex. I hate to be the one to break it to you, Lothbrok, your dick is great, but it’s not _that_ great.”

Despite all his attempts to maintain his serene facade, Ivar’s mouth started to twitch. Pretty soon, he was laughing right along with me.

“Well, when you put it _that_ way…” he shrugged, “Yeah… it’s just, it seems really fast is all.”

I mirrored his shrug. “So? We’ve spent a truly egregious amount of time together for almost a month. I’ve loved plenty of people after spending far less time with them. Hell, I’ve loved Ealhswith pretty much since the first time I met her because she felt bad that I was always by myself. She got a bunch of her friends and came to sit with me at lunch.”

Ivar cocked his head and snickered. “So, you’re saying you love me like you love your brother’s girlfriend?”

“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes, “What I’m saying is, I’m not exactly at the point of making a suicide pact if our families don’t like us being together or whatever, but what I feel for you, I don’t know any way to describe it other than love.”

That was the conclusion I’d come to after a careful analysis. I liked hanging out with Ivar. I felt like I could talk to him about anything. When we were apart, I was constantly thinking about things I wanted to share with him, little anecdotes that I knew he would find funny. That brief period after our fight, I realized that my life would be worse if he wasn’t in it.

But by no means least of all, I’d finally realized what had unnerved me so much about the night before. I’d fully expected and been prepared to have sex with Ivar, and that wasn’t what had ended up happening. Without realizing it, we’d made love.

“So I’m sorry to disillusion you, but I love way more about you than the fact that you give me amazing orgasms.” I finished.

Ivar stared at his hands on the steering wheel the whole time I talked. Finally he turned and gave me a shaky smile.

“I… I guess I just never expected you would be the one to say it first.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, hugging him as best I could in the confines of the front seat. “But you did expect we’d say it eventually?”

He rested his cheek on my head. “Yeah. If you put up with me long enough, I knew we’d get there.” he nudged me to look up at him. “Say it again.”

Almost before he finished asking, I responded, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His voice was a little hoarse, but he said it with every ounce of sincerity he could muster.

~...~

Homecoming was coming up, and with it Aethelred’s much-awaited match. Though other sports had events the same day, the Rugby Sevens game was what everyone was waiting for. As the sister of the new team captain, I was subjected to a lot more attention than I was used to.

Between that and keeping up with my classes, Ivar and I ended up not having much time to see each other for the next few days. It was almost torturous after having just taken such big steps in our relationship, but we managed to make it work. We texted a lot throughout the day, and at night we used Skype to chat and hang out while doing homework or whatever.

And every time we signed off, we would say, “I love you” and giggle like a pair of idiots.

Random people kept on talking to me, either to express their undying devotion to my brother and the Ravens, or to try and quiz me for any information that might guide their bets that weekend. By the time Friday came around, I was pretty close to saying “screw it” and just hunting Ivar down for a desperately needed hug. I would have skipped the game altogether except that Alfred kept reminding me that it wouldn’t actually _kill_ me to show up and support Aethelred. There may have also been some bribery involved.

So I put on my “Wessex 7” shirt - one of his actual uniform jerseys he’d given me - put on some makeup, slapped a sparkly Ravens temporary tattoo on my cheek, and dragged myself to the stadium. Alfred and I had been given some of the best seats in the house as usual, close to the field where our brother could glance over and see us cheering for him.

“Hey, Alfred, Gwen.”

I jerked around at the sound of Ubbe’s voice to find him, Hvitserk, and Ivar taking their seats behind us. Ubbe and Hvitserk were thoroughly kitted out in Ravens regalia. Ivar, meanwhile, had gone all-out with the punk look. Black leather jacket _and_ pants, eyeliner, stacks of studded leather bracelets, and heavy silver rings on almost every finger. His hair was loose and a bit disheveled from his habit of running his fingers through it incessantly. He’d obviously gone out of his way to stick out from the hordes of fans, which was slightly amusing considering he was probably the craziest sports fan of them all.

To my vague horror, he sat down directly behind me with a feral grin. It was almost physically painful to have him so close after almost a week apart and not be able to acknowledge him the way I wanted. Although when Ivar leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, I began to suspect that _he_ was planning something.

The players came out onto the field, and I could see Aethelred immediately looking for us and waving with a grin. Just then, I felt a tickling sensation on the back of my neck, and had to make a conscious effort to keep my expression neutral. Ivar had started to surreptitiously trace one finger over my spine.

A part of me wanted to turn around and glare at him, but I couldn’t do anything that would draw attention. Besides, the other part of me felt a thrill that we were surrounded by thousands of eyes that were completely unaware that he was affectionately playing with a lock of my hair between two knuckles.

For literally the entire game he kept it up, while still following and reacting to the action on the field as if it had his undivided attention. I, meanwhile, could barely pay attention enough to cheer whenever Aethelred scored. It was all I could do not to let my eyes fall shut and lean into his teasing caress. I could only hope that anyone who saw my flaming cheeks thought it was just the excitement of the game.

I think we won, I wasn’t entirely sure. I really wasn’t thinking straight by the end there. The second the whistle was blown I sprang up from my seat and chirped that I had to go to the bathroom. Behind me, I vaguely heard Ivar saying he needed to stretch his legs as I speed-walked away.

There was a small corner of the stands that was often empty. The side of the bleachers was open, and if you stood just underneath it was the quietest place in the stadium. I went there a lot to wait for Aethelred to come out after a game, away from the crowds. Now I sought it out to calm my racing heart.

I gave a stifled shriek when Ivar swooped in front of me.

“Sorry.” He grinned.

“You!” I swatted at him, but he just laughed and caught my wrists in his hands. Pinning them behind my back, he maneuvered us until I was pressed between the concrete wall and his equally unyielding body.

“Now, now.” he scolded with that amused, devilish grin, “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend who hasn’t seen you in days?”

“Is that what all that was about back there?”

Ivar tilted his head, looking dark and seductive in the dim lighting. “Are you complaining?”

I rolled my eyes. “It was certainly the most _suspenseful_ game I’ve been to. I kept thinking Aethelred was going to look over and see us. But no, not really.”

“Then shut up so I can kiss you.” Ivar growled, diving in before I could have a chance to respond.

He didn’t have to say he’d missed me. I could feel it in the way he kissed me, a little frantic with none of his usual artful precision. He pressed his tongue along the seam of my mouth, demanding entry. I let myself relax into it, accepting his declaration. Though silent, I knew enough about him to know it was simply the best way he knew how to express it.

When he’d finally poured out enough of his emotion that he could stand there without shaking, he broke away. Softly, he traced his lips along my jawline, up to my forehead, his breathe tickling. I nuzzled against his cheek, smiling, trying to respond, express my feelings the same way he had.

He finally arrived back at my lips, this time keeping his kisses tender, skillful. I sighed and melted into him, thoroughly enjoying the way he seemed to surround me, all my senses completely filled with just him. One thigh had made its way between mine, pushing me up onto my toes and I whimpered at being denied the necessary leverage to grind against it.

“What the fuck?”

My eyes flew open. My head jerked to the side and, sure enough, my worst fears were realized. Aethelred stood there, still in his uniform and sweaty from the game, and I watched as his expression turned from shocked to enraged. Even worse, several of his teammates were with him, staring at us.

The image of what this must look like to him flashed into my mind. Ivar holding my wrists, trapping me against the wall. He’d leaned over, making me crane my neck back in a way that had been awfully romantic at the time, but I could just imagine how it would appear to my brother.

Sure enough, the next thing Aethelred was shouting, “Get the _fuck_ off her!”

Ivar released me, but moved to stand between me and my brother. I tried to pull on his elbow, to tell him what a godawful move that was, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept one hand behind him, angling his body to block Aethelred’s view of me.

“Look, calm down.” Ivar started to say, but it only angered Aethelred further.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Lothbrok? What, you ran out of people you hadn’t fucked so you decided to try it on with my _sister_?”

I couldn’t see Ivar’s face, but I could _hear_ the smirk in his voice as he replied, “I’m not _trying_ anything.”

I seriously could have punched him in the kidneys at that moment. From the look on Aethelred’s face, he was feeling pretty similar.

“You know, I actually thought you might have changed these past months,” he looked Ivar up and down with disgust, “but I was wrong. You’re still just another spoiled kid who thinks he can do whatever he wants. Well you may have gotten away with fucking over all those others, but you’re _not_ doing it to my sister.”

“Aethelred, it’s not-” I tried to interject, but Ivar wouldn’t let me get passed him, and my brother wasn’t listening anyway.

“What would she do without you and your high horse.” Ivar said sarcastically.

“Ivar, I don’t need a high horse, it’s really not that hard to be less of a shit human being than you!”

“And of course you just know everything about me and my life!”

“I know enough to not want you anywhere near Gwen!”

The confrontation quickly devolved into the two of them shouting over each other, and as if things couldn’t get any better, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Alfred came jogging up, alerted that there was trouble by the sheer volume of their argument.

At the sight of them Aethelred stepped forward, gesturing for me. “Gwen, come on.”

Ivar immediately shifted again to block him, and my brother’s expression went dangerously calm.

“Gwen,” he repeated steadily, “let’s go, we’ll talk about this later.”

“She’s not anywhere she doesn’t want to be.” Ivar’s hands clenched into fists, refusing to budge.

Aethelred gave a sound of exasperation. “Look, mate, you really need to back right the fuck off.”

He tried to step around Ivar to get to me. The next thing I knew he was stumbling back with a hand to his jaw.

I was still processing that Ivar had _punched_ my oldest brother in the face when I realized that all the shouting I was hearing was because Ubbe was holding Ivar while Alfred tried to calm Aethelred and Hvitserk tried to block the other players from laying into his younger brother. Around us, the whole commotion had drawn a crowd of curious onlookers. It was plain from the looks I was getting that they had some idea of what was going on.

I acted instinctively, wrapping my arms around myself and walking away from all of them with head bowed low.

~...~

I made a beeline straight for the exit, desperate to get away from all of those prying eyes.

“C’mon, Gwen! Slow down, I can’t keep up!” Ivar’s voice broke through.

At some point he and Aethelred had stopped yelling at each other long enough to notice I was gone. He’d somehow gotten away and had been calling after me for awhile. I reluctantly slowed my steps, unwilling to abuse his weakness even to make my escape. When I turned, he was limping heavily but he didn’t stop until he saw me shrink back, and then he immediately halted, hands held out.

“It’s okay.” he tried to soothe, “Don’t panic.”

“Panic!” I shouted, “I’m not panicked, I’m fucking _livid_!”

Ivar took a step back in surprise. Aethelred and Alfred came up behind him. At least they had the sense not to get too close.

“Gwen…” Aethelred tried to speak, but Ivar interrupted him with a snarl to fuck off.

“ _You_ fuck off!” I snapped, “What did you seriously think you were going doing? Starting a fight with my brother? You _know_ how I feel about my family! How could you?”

Ivar winced and hung his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything. I just… reacted.”

“Why couldn’t you just listen to me?” I directed my question at the both of them, trying to choke back frustrated tears, “Do you have any idea how humiliated I feel? Everyone was looking at _me_ because you two can’t handle your shit like adults!”

“No, please don’t cry.” Now Ivar was starting to look like the panicked one.

Alfred shook his head and shoved past Aethelred and Ivar to put an arm around me, knowing enough not to try and calm me down, but to just give me some support.

“I was just so pissed off…” Ivar tried to excuse, which only made me angrier.

“ _Lots_ of people get pissed off, Ivar, they don’t all go around throwing punches!”

Aethelred tried to step in next, and I held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t you dare! You’re no better. God, right now I don’t particularly want to even _know_ either one of you!”

Ivar tried to reach out to me again, but I turned away from him into Alfred. My twin held on to me, glaring at both our brother and my boyfriend.

“Here’s the deal,” he said in that voice that always made people shut up and listen, “I’m going to take Gwen home. You two find somewhere to cool off, preferably separately, and then come by in a couple hours. And _if_ , at that time, she wants to, we will all sit down and talk about this like the nice, civilized adults we’re supposed to be.”

Neither of them replied, and Alfred ushered me away to find one of his friends to drive us back. He didn’t want to walk and give all the other students a chance to gawk at me in my current upset condition.

~...~

At the house, Ealhswith was filled in on the situation and went about fixing me a cup of tea. She kept any comments to herself, but I could tell from her tight-lipped expression that she was angry. She sat with me in the living room, listening patiently while I ranted about mankind in general, and the two of them in particular.

By the time a soft knock came at the door, I had vented most of my initial anger and was considerably calmer. Alfred went to answer, and a moment later he led Ivar into the room. Ealhswith moved and gestured for Ivar to take her place beside me so we could talk without being overheard by her or Alfred, but they stayed in one corner to make it clear that they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

Ivar was the first to speak, the words coming out in a rush. “If we’re done, just say it straight out… please.”

Looking at his face, I realized that he was completely convinced that I was about to dump him, and that he’d probably spent the past couple of hours trying to prepare himself.

I sighed and took his face in my hands, forcing him to look up at me. “Ivar, I’m not breaking up with you because of one mistake. Yeah, it was a real doozy, but I don’t expect you to be perfect. As long as you understand _why_ I’m upset and are willing to try to do better, I’m willing to work with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He said, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t _have_ to. I _choose_ to. I… I _love_ you.”

“Ging…” He leaned his forehead against mine, clenching his eyes tightly like he might be holding back tears.

“Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

We turned to find Aethelred staring at the pair of us with a slightly freaked out expression.

I didn’t let Ivar pull away from me. I held his hands tightly and met Aethelred’s gaze calmly as I said, “What I would have explained if everyone hadn’t flipped out is that Ivar and I are going out.”

From his expression, my brother had to do a full reboot of his brain to process that information. His eyes blinked, his mouth opened and closed several times, and finally he settled with simply asking, “Since when?”

“Pretty much since Alfred’s last party when he decided to lock us in a closet together.”

“Traitor!” Alfred called without any actual hard feelings. It was well understood between us twins that if there was a way to shift at least some trouble from one of us onto the other, we would.

“Wait, you did _what_?” Aethelred turned to him.

Alfred shrugged. “It was supposed to be a joke! I never expected her to _do_ anything!”

“Are you kidding me?” our brother cried, agape with shock, “She’s only been infatuated with him since the first day of school… _last year_!”

“What?” Alfred frowned with confusion.

“What?” I blurted, surprised and embarrassed.

“What?” Ivar asked, grinning at me.

Blushing and fidgeting, I tried to keep my expression neutral as I asked, “H-how did you know about that?”

Aethelred snorted. “Because I have eyes in my head.” then to Alfred, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

While Alfred worked on his own existential crisis, Aethelred rounded on Ivar, who was at that moment staring at me with unabashed glee.

“You! You had better-!”

“Nope!” I leapt up and came around to put myself right in his face, “ _You_ need to get it through your thick skull that I’m just as much of an adult as Alfred. I can make my own decisions about who I want in my life.”

I softened at the sight of him frowning at his feet, jaw working slightly before muttering, “It’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is.” then after a moment he added, “You don’t get close to a lot of people, but when you do you don’t… protect yourself. I just couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.”

We talked for a long time that night. Ivar stayed mostly silent beside me, just listening as I explained the relationship we’d formed, nodding along as I told my brother how important we’d become to each other. The thing that seemed to affect Aethelred the deepest was hearing how much time we spent talking, that we’d bonded over our complicated families. Although it was absolutely _not_ something I was going to talk about directly with my brother, he finally seemed somewhat reassured that Ivar wasn’t just using me for sex. He and Ivar definitely still had their issues, but they at least weren’t at each other’s throats.

Which led me to the next thing I had to address.

“I really hate violence. And don’t say it was because you were trying to defend me.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ivar admitted. “The thing is, I used to get in fights all the time. It got to the point where it was like a habit. No one ever tried to stop me. If there was ever a problem, my mom would just sweep it under the rug. It’s something I’ve been working really hard on, learning to control myself. But like I said, it was a habit, something I didn’t even think about. He pissed me off and I just… reacted. I don’t know if I can promise it won’t ever happen again, but I can promise that I will keep working on it and that I would never, ever hurt _you_.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay, I think I can accept that. But in the meantime, it would mean a lot to me if you could apologize to Aethelred.”

Ivar visibly struggled with my request, but he finally managed to utter a moderately sincere apology for punching Aethelred, which was accepted with a slightly obnoxious level of graciousness.

“Now you.”

Aethelred sputtered, taken off guard by having the tables turned, but I remained firm. I wanted to be clear that his attitude with both of us was unacceptable. He ground his teeth together and grumbled something about being sorry for the way he talked to Ivar, and for not listening when I tried to stop them.

When he finally left, I was pretty much exhausted from the long day. I curled up against Ivar on the couch, taking comfort in the fact that we at least wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore.

“You know what this means?”

“What?”

“You can come with me to the frat’s Halloween party!”

“Uh… maybe we should keep it quiet for a little while longer?”


	9. Part 9

“Ivar.”

“Mm?”

“Ivar… talk to me?”

“I thought it was embarrassing?”

“I never said that… I like it.”

“You do? You like it when I talk dirty to you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It make you feel good? Oh fu- fuck. Are you close, baby? Is that it? Tell me, Ginger, you need to hear me talking so you can come?”

“Uh- _huh_.”

“Okay, baby, let’s do it. I want to feel you come around my cock again so bad. Fuck, the first time I felt you come I knew it would feel amazing.”

“ _Uh-huh_!”

“Your pussy gripping, squeezing my cock so tight. You don’t like that word, do you? I love it, I love your sweet little pussy. _Oh fuck_ , do that again!”

I clenched my muscles around him again and then again each time his rhythm brought him deep inside me. Between that and the whispers of forbidden words in my ears I couldn’t hold back anymore. I turned to try and muffle a howl into his neck as I came, Ivar’s gentle rocking drawing out wave after wave of pleasure until I was completely spent.

I’d woken that morning with the realization that we could go anywhere we wanted now, and had come over to take Ivar out for breakfast while everyone else slept off their post-Homecoming hangovers. Only he’d griped and grumbled - I’m dead, Ging, the dead don’t eat breakfast - and then coaxed me into a ‘quick’ cuddle.

I really should have predicted it, but at some point we were making out and then we just suddenly pulled apart and shared this look like, “Oh yeah, that’s a thing we’re doing now isn’t it? You want to? Oh, fuck yes.” and the next thing I knew I was clambering out of bed so I could get out of my clothes as fast as possible while Ivar dove for a condom. A few moments of flailing and some lubricant later and he was sliding inside me for only the second time ever.

And then I kind of had this “Oh” moment where I was really happy there was lubrication because his piercing was actually still in and it definitely made things a slightly tighter fit going in; and then I had an “Oh!” moment because while, okay, it might have just been the intellectual knowledge of its existence rather than any actual physical stimulation from it, but it was _good_. Like, actually having trouble keeping my eyes open, wait this isn’t supposed to feel this amazing it’s only the second time I’m supposed to be disappointed right now, toe curling _good_.

So by the time it was over, I was close to reconsidering my belief in a higher power, or at least in the Devil, because I was pretty certain Ivar had to have sold his soul at some point. When I mumbled this comment into his chest while we reoriented ourselves to life on planet Earth, he just laughed and told me that he’d tried, and the Devil hadn’t wanted it.

He lay on his side, one arm tucked under me and the other exploring, playing with my hair, stroking my hip. He watched his hand dance over me so intently that his brow was wrinkled into a slight frown. I loved these moments when hormones were still racing through my body, and I didn’t feel the desire to shy away from the intensity of his gaze. In fact, I was practically preening, something Ivar definitely noticed and approved of.

“Happy?”

“Mm hm.” I confirmed.

“I’m glad.” he swooped in to kiss me, “Wanna go again?”

“No!” I laughed, “Now I want to _eat_!”

Something changed in his expression that made me stop and cock my head in question. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look at me quite like that before.

“You’re so beautiful when you laugh like that.” he said, shaking his head in wonder, “I never thought I could ever… do that.”

I took a moment to wrap my arms around him and pull him closer so I could kiss his cheek. At some point I’d become aware that Ivar often needed reassurance just as much as I did, and I was trying to put more effort into learning his cues.

Things very nearly went off track again, but I finally pouted pitifully enough that Ivar agreed to accompany me to breakfast. We got dressed and went downstairs together to find Hvitserk in the kitchen creating his special hangover remedy. God only knew what it was, but he swore by it.

He looked at us with a glum expression and in an accusing monotone said, “It’s 9 in the morning.”

Ivar’s response was to flip his brother off, request a high-five —which was reluctantly given— and drag me outside before I could interpret enough of their exchange to feel embarrassed.

We walked across campus arm-in-arm, and if any of the handful of students who weren’t still sleeping off the previous day took notice of us, I could easily tuck my face into his shoulder and take deep breaths of his comforting scent until I didn’t care anymore.

As soon as we came in the door of the diner, Helga rushed over to greet us. Unfortunately, it seemed that the majority of the sober students had inexplicably chosen that day to to be there. Despite the early hour, the diner was half full of people, and every one of them turned to gawk at the pair of us. I did my best to not meet any of their gazes, but I could feel them staring at us and hear their hushed whispers.

Helga was elated to see us together, but quickly picked up on my discomfort. She immediately cast a glare in the general vicinity of the other customers.

“I know, they’re fucking _adorable_!” she snapped, “But if you don’t get back to your food in ten seconds, I’ll have to assume that you’re finished eating and you will be presented with the check and a boot to the ass!”

No one was willing to risk their Belgian waffles, even to rubberneck what was probably the juiciest bit of scandalous gossip the campus had seen since the Professor of Religious Studies was caught _in flagrante delicto_ with the Dean’s wife. By the time we got to Ivar’s hidden booth, everyone had turned back to their meals anyway.

We chatted quietly about what we were going to get. Helga wrote our order down, but then took the seat across from us and held the slip of paper out to Ivar. “Here, why don’t you take that back to Floki? You haven’t been by in so long, he’ll be glad to have a chat.”

Ivar took it from her hesitantly, looking between the two of us with vague confusion, but he obeyed. Helga smiled innocently back at him as he glanced over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. As soon as he passed through the doors she turned to me, leaning over the table with undisguised excitement.

“So? How did it go?” she asked. Her eyes were bright with mischievous glee as I tried and failed to hide a smile.

“It was… good.” I replied. “I had a- I kind of freaked out when we first got there, but he was really great. We spent a whole day just hanging out and doing whatever and it was really fun and relaxing, and then…”

Helga gave a soft squeal at my blush. She was clutching my hands and waving them, almost bouncing in her seat in delight.

“I’m so happy for you! And was it everything you’d hoped?”

“Honestly, it was _way_ better. I didn’t expect- I didn’t realize how emotional it would make me feel.”

Helga’s smile softened. She rubbed my hands gently and with complete sincerity said, “Really? I’m so glad.” she paused for a moment before asking, “Does Ivar know?”

I nodded slowly. “He does. It’s kind of been the same for him too.”

“Good. _Good_. I’m so happy, for _both_ of you. I love Ivar, and I can’t tell you what it means to me to see him with someone like you; but I’m glad that he’s been good to you too.”

Hearing that, it was almost like having his own mother’s approval. I felt a rush of confidence, knowing that this woman who Ivar loved and respected supported us.

“I’m afraid I heard about what happened with your brother.” she admitted.

I winced. With so many witnesses, I knew it was only a matter of time before some version of events became known to the entire campus. Helga briefly told me what was being said, and it was pretty predictable. At least I was able to take comfort that she had a better idea of the facts and had been able to subtly quash some of the more salacious rumors.

“I hope you’re not upset.” she said. “I know you were keeping it quiet, but under the circumstances… well, I thought it would be better to let people know you were a serious couple rather than let everyone keep saying what they were.”

“No, it’s okay. I appreciate it. There’s no point trying to keep it a secret anymore anyway, Aethelred already knows and that’s the one thing we were worried about.”

“I’m sure you would have preferred if he’d found out in a different way.”

“Honestly, I don’t know that it would have made much of a difference. He was always going to freak out about it. I just wish it hadn’t been so public.”

Helga winced in sympathy. “That’s fair. You two seem okay now, did they sort things out after?”

“Sort of.” I replied, “My brother, I wouldn’t say he’s _okay_ with us, but he’s not going to try and stop us either. And right now, that’s enough for me.”

“Have you talked to your mom yet?”

I made a face. We’d had a discussion before about that. I had held off telling her because I knew she would end up telling Aethelwulf, which would inevitably lead to Aethelred finding out too. But now that he knew, I still wasn’t in any rush. I loved my mom, but she could be… difficult.

“Helga, Floki says he’s not paying you to flirt with the customers.”

Ivar slid back into the booth, wrapping and arm around my shoulders and pecking my cheek. Helga smirked at his comment as she in turn stood up, preparing to go back to work.

“Technically, he’s not paying me at all.”

“What did you two talk about?” he asked once she’d left.

“Nothing, just girl stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked unconvinced, but let it go in favor of returning to trying to sweet-talk me into agreeing to attend the frat’s Halloween party in a few days.

He continued to go on about it for the rest of breakfast, stopping only to argue with me over the check.

“ _I_ invited _you_!”

“But…”

I glared at him, daring him to elaborate.

“Okay, I admit, I’m kind of old-fashioned about this shit. You’re my girl, I’m supposed to spoil the shit out of you.”

“Well you’re my boyfriend and, sometimes, _I_ want to spoil _you_!”

Ivar went faintly pink around the edges at that and didn’t argue any further. Instead he went right back to the previous topic of trying to wheedle me into going to his godforsaken party, and he was _still_ going on about it when we got back to my place, while I was still holding firm to my strict anti-socialization policy.

“But, Ging,” he protested, crowding me against the kitchen island from behind and trying to soften me with liberal neck-kisses, “you don’t even know the costume I have planned! We could get you something to match!”

“Ivar, there is absolutely no costume on Earth that would convince me to go to that party, or any other.”

~...~

“I hate you all.”

“No you don’t.” Ealhswith replied, unbothered by my proclamation, “See? I told you it would fit.”

I surveyed the black and silver, liberally beaded sheath in the mirror. Hearing that Ivar planned on going to the Halloween party as a 1920’s gangster, Ealhswith had immediately piped up that she had “just the thing.” It was completely unfair. She _knew_ my weakness for everything vintage.

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!” I whined as she pinned my hair into a rudimentary faux bob.

“I am. I’m making sure you don’t enter the real world with absolutely no social skills by encouraging you to attend a nice party with a young man who’s very fond of you, and will make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

“But- oh! That’s actually quite nice.”

Ealhswith smirked behind my shoulder as she finished tying the matching headband in place. A dramatic black ostrich feather came out from an ornately beaded ornament, the very edges of the feather coming down to tickle my cheekbone. It was just the kind of shiny, pointless accessory I adored. I’d been doubtful about the colors at first, but now that it was on I couldn’t help but think that the cool, dark tones made a rather striking contrast to my strawberry-blonde hair and fair skin.

“Aww, hell.”

My friend burst into laughter as I gave in, hugging me from behind. “Don’t worry, Gwen. Alfred and I will be there too. It’ll be fun!”

~...~

With our relationship public, Ivar and I immediately fell into a routine of staying over at each other’s places. We switched back and forth, one night at his and the next at mine. It wasn’t even all about sex. We just loved to fall asleep and wake up together. It was like, even when we were busy with classes during the day, we would always have those precious moments together.

The morning of the Halloween party I woke up a little earlier than usual. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep so close to my alarm going off, but I didn’t mind. My boyfriend and I were snuggled about as close as physically possible, partly through necessity since he took up roughly three-quarters of my bed. It was a great way to wake up, and I gave a happy sigh as I felt him stir beside me.

Ivar seemed to have a sixth sense for when I was awake. No matter how grumpy he could be in the mornings, once I was awake it was only a matter of minutes before he would be up too. Though his version of waking up usually involved some attempt to burrow us both deeper into the bed with various adorably irritated noises.

“We should get up.”

Ivar grumbled as he squinted at my clock. Seeing the time he let his head flop back down and, predictably, nestled his face into my neck.

“Mm,” he mumbled sleepily, “we should fuck.”

I rolled onto my side with a laugh, wrapping my arms around his waist. “You have such _good_ ideas.”

“I know.” He nodded as he started pressing hot, wet kisses down my neck.

Slowly, lazily he worked his way down, head disappearing under the covers as he mouthed at my skin through my thin camisole. Soon he’d reached his goal and was tugging my shorts down my legs.

During the nearly two weeks leading up to our weekend at the cabin, we hadn’t been what one could call ‘chaste’. At first I’d felt strangely guilty with how often Ivar did this without any kind of prompting or expectation of getting anything in return. That was until I’d realized that it was something he really, honestly loved to do. As he described it, he enjoyed everything about going down on me, from the taste and scent to the little bit of a power-trip he got from turning me into a complete mess just from using his mouth and hands.

Still, no matter how many times Ivar did it, I always had a flutter of nerves when he first started. I clasped my hands together over my chest. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, racing to find something to focus on other than the eternal question of whether I was going to be able to relax enough, or if this would be one of the times where no matter what, I just wouldn’t be able to get both my mind and body to cooperate and just _let go_.

What was that sound I just made? Was that sexy or just weird? Was I supposed to be doing something right now? What if it took me too long and there wasn’t enough time to get ready for class? Did he really not mind if we didn’t do anything for him?

“Did you know that men have hormonal cycles too? Your testosterone levels are highest in the morning, so in some ways it makes more sense to have sex in the morning.”

Ivar’s hand suddenly appeared, pulling the covers back so he could glare at me.

“Hi.”

“Um, hi.” I waved like an idiot.

“Am I distracting you? Do you mind if I…?” He mimicked my innocent, questioning expression, gesturing in the general direction of my, uh, lower body.

“Oh please, be my guest.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

Finally Ivar’s show of irritation broke, and he grinned before flipping the comforter back over his head as he dove back down. I giggled and relaxed into the mattress, curling my hands in his hair the way he liked as he started to work his tongue over my clit and I felt the first flush of pleasure come to my cheeks. It wasn’t always perfect. But it was those little moments that made it all worthwhile; when I could forget about trying to do or be anything and just laugh with him at the ridiculousness that was my brain.

Only that one moment just wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that I kept expecting the alarm to go off at any second. The knowledge that we had limited time niggled incessantly —and then we had classes and then I had to get home and shower and get ready and go to the freaking party— and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t relax. It just… wasn’t happening. Ivar persisted, trying everything he could think of, his technique becoming fast and sloppy as his frustration built.

Then my phone started blaring “Pachelbel's Canon in D” and Ivar let out a sound of pure irritation.

“I’m _really_ starting to hate that song!” he snapped as I started to push him off and reached over to turn it off.

I didn’t say anything as I pulled my sleep shorts back on and started getting ready for the day. I didn’t have to see Ivar’s expression to know he was in a foul mood, and I didn’t know what to say to make it better, so I avoided looking at him to try and control the sinking feeling in my stomach. The rational part of me knew I shouldn’t feel guilty over something I couldn’t control, but yeah, that didn’t help much when I was faced with a sulky boyfriend with badly wounded pride.

We got dressed and ate breakfast in silence. Ealhswith cast curious glances our way, but chose to not comment on the obvious tension and just quietly added extra blueberries to my waffles. Ivar remained gloomy the whole walk to my first class; though he still held my hand along the way and gave me his usual lingering kiss before letting me go.

All day long I had classes to distract me, but then evening came and I couldn’t ignore it any more. I was going to a —shudder— social event in a few hours, with Ivar, and the last time I saw him he had a black cloud floating above his head. I had gone from dreading the stupid thing to hoping I got hit by a car on the way back home so I wouldn’t have to deal with it at all.

Alfred and Ealhswith were also going, so we’d decided that I’d get ready and Ivar would come by so we could all walk to the party together. The unspoken reason being that I might feel more comfortable if I was surrounded by my people.

Ealhswith, usually more attuned to my state of mind, seemed to assume that I was just nervous about the party. She kept up a steady stream of chatter as she finished getting into her own Morticia Addams costume and started helping me with my hair. It gave me something to keep my mind occupied as I applied my makeup.

My final flapper look had been rigorously researched, and I was actually quite pleased with the resulting smoky eyeshadow. After watching roughly a million tutorials and some creative teamwork, we’d managed to style my hair into sleek finger waves, with the majority of the length tucked into a loose faux bob like she’d done before. The pièce de résistance was the authentic shade of deep red lipstick, so dark it was almost black.

“Thirty seconds! I’m giving you thirty seconds before we leave without you!”

Alfred had spent the past fifteen minutes shouting dire warnings up the stairs at us. Ealhswith had mostly responded by rolling her eyes and ignoring him. Ivar, on the other hand, had been surprisingly patient. I hadn’t heard a peep out of him since he’d announced his arrival half an hour ago.

“Done!” Ealhswith proclaimed, pinning one last lock into place and standing back to survey her work.

I gathered the remaining shreds of my confidence before stepping downstairs. Alfred and Ivar stood at the bottom waiting for us, and looked up as soon as they heard us coming.

I could only assume Ivar liked the final look, because he didn’t actually say anything. Mostly he just stood there and looked faintly stunned while Alfred —dressed as Gomez— bustled forward to take Ealhswith’s arm, finally stopping his complaining long enough to proclaim, “Cara mia!” and press effusive kisses up her arm.

I was pretty speechless myself, seeing Ivar standing there in his pinstripe suit and fedora. We probably would have spent the rest of the night just standing there, blushing and smiling at each other if Alfred hadn’t startled us out of our mutual admiration-fest by ushering us towards the door.

“Come on, people! Move it!”

Ivar blinked and finally moved to offer me his elbow and asked, “Are you going to be warm enough?”

I had a black shawl that at least sort-of matched Ealhswith’s stunning dress, but it was okay since it was just for the short walk to Ivar’s. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I got a little chilly.

My laptop and overnight bags were already packed and sitting by the front door, and Ivar scooped them up on our way out despite my protestations. Apparently his mother and Helga had instilled some pretty deep feelings about gentlemanly behavior, and the suit had brought it all out in spades.

Luckily, Alfred and Ealhswith talked too much to notice that Ivar and I were still suffering from critical levels of discomfort. They kept up a running commentary on the decorations of different houses as we passed by them. Other places were having smaller parties, but none of them compared to the annual Kappa Kappa Halloween shindig.

Ever since Ubbe had joined the frat, there had been a major shift in how parties were handled. He took great pride in “not being like the others”, and had set up a system in which newer members were forced to remain completely sober the entire night and act as guards. While some wildness was expected and allowed, he took the safety of anyone who entered their doors very seriously. And ever since Hvitserk had arrived and revolutionized the world of college party snack foods with his array of homemade dips, theirs had become _the_ party to be at for the entire campus.

The theme this year was the only-slightly-potentially-offensive “Night of the Living Dead”, which could be interpreted in whatever way one chose to. Some chose to go with historical costumes, while others chose to take it more literally. Those with slightly more questionable taste dressed up as recently-deceased celebrities.

The frat house was already packed. Students in everything from the most elaborate of costumes to regular everyday clothes poured out the open doors and onto the yard outside. Inside, it was impossible to move without squeezing past a half-drunk girl in a sexy insert-occupation-here outfit. Music pumped through the halls at eardrum-damaging levels.

I swallowed down a wave of panic at the sight of so many people all squished together in one space. It rose right back up again as it seemed like absolutely _everyone_ wanted to talk to us. Ivar handled the crowd deftly, saying just enough to everyone who greeted him for them to feel acknowledged but not enough to prompt a longer conversation as he guided us through the mass of bodies.

We found a large group of his friends, and there were one or two double-takes as Ivar proudly presented me to them as his girlfriend — probably because they’d never seen me in anything other than loose tops and jeans or leggings. Still, they all seemed to be pretty accepting of their friend’s new relationship, and greeted me warmly.

I smiled and nodded till I felt like some kind of bobblehead, my mind spinning to try and keep up with all the names and faces being presented to me. Before long they were trying to pull Ivar away to discuss something related to his duties as one of the main organizers. He looked at me apologetically, and I nodded, smile carefully frozen in place.

I heaved a great sigh as I watched him go. He was just so damned _happy_ to be there, so proud to be able to show off our relationship. How could I resent him for not noticing my discomfort when I was trying my hardest to hide it? He’d sacrificed a lot of time with his friends over the past weeks to be with me. He deserved this.

Looking around, I was alarmed to realize that my brother and Ealhswith had wandered off somewhere while I’d been distracted. I searched frantically for a moment, craning my neck to try and see over the crowd, but I couldn’t find them. Taking a deep breathe, I decided that I would just take my bags upstairs to Ivar’s room and wait for him there.

As soon as I turned to head in that direction, I was waylaid by a group of girls dressed as slaughtered Hogwarts students who surrounded me like a flock of seagulls.

“Are you really dating Ivar Lothbrok? Like, seriously, actually dating?”

“Be honest, it was witchcraft, wasn’t it?”

“God, I would kill to get that D on the regular.”

“Yeah, but then you’d have to deal with the personality that comes _with_ that D.”

“Ew, good point.”

They all turned to me as one unit, looking expectant.

“He’s… nice to _me_.” I said faintly.

“ _Definitely_ witchcraft.” A brunette said, nodding firmly.

“No, but seriously,” another said, “I don’t know whether I’m overwhelmed with jealousy or filled with sympathy. Like, Ivar can be an amazing friend—”

“—as long as you don’t sleep with him.” a tall blonde finished.

“Although, as I recall, there was no _sleeping_ involved.” the first brunette snorted dryly.

“But _oh_ , the not-sleeping.” the blonde sighed dramatically. 

“Really?” another girl, dressed as Grace Kelly in ice-blue satin spoke up. She’d been standing to one side and had apparently been listening in. Now that she had everyone’s attention she smirked and raised an eyebrow at the others, “I think Ivar’s girlfriend would rather not hear about his past flings?”

The group of ‘witches’ reacted immediately to this new girl’s scolding, looking at me with horror and gushing variations on, “Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry!” I shrugged it off, too stunned by the onslaught of noise and people to feel upset about them in particular. Grace Kelly stepped forward with a friendly smile to shake my hand.

“I’m Aud.”

“Gwen Wessex.”

“I know.” she said, “Don’t pay them any attention. Thorunn is my sister and I can vouch that she’s never had a bit of common sense.”

“Hey!” the brunette exclaimed in mock outrage, throwing an arm around my shoulders, “Don’t try to turn her against us!”

I looked around, desperately searching for an escape route from the gaggle of overly-friendly teens.

“Uh, I have to go drop this off upstairs.” I gestured with my bags, slipping carefully out from under the brunette’s arm.

“Okay,” Aud smiled, “Maybe we’ll talk later?”

I mumbled something noncommittal and slinked off towards the stairs to try and get some respite in Ivar’s room. Only for some reason, roughly half the school had decided to congregate directly on the staircase. There was no chance in hell I was getting up there without being an actual ninja. Thinking fast, I made a quick detour.

I ducked down a hallway off of the entryway that was relatively empty and, now faintly panicking, opened the first door I found. Seeing it was just a coat closet, I was about to close it again when I paused. How desperate _was_ I?

Ten minutes later, Hvitserk opened the closet door, preparing to hang up a guest’s coat and halted. I sat, leaning up against one side, earbuds in and face illuminated by the screen of my laptop as I contentedly worked away at some homework.

“Uh, are you okay?”

I had to pull out one earbud and have him repeat himself before I understood the question. Once I did I gave him a deceptively calm smile and nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup!”

“Should I… get Ivar?”

“That’s fine.” I said pleasantly, “Thank you for offering.”

Hvitserk gave a doubtful, “Uh huh.” and hung up the coat. He did this sort of slow backing away as I reached up to close the closet door behind him. Just a few minutes later the door opened again. This time, Ivar was there, looking down at me with a concerned expression.

“Oh hey.” I waved.

“Gwen, what’s going on?” Ivar asked seriously.

“Just thought I’d get an early start on some stuff.”

Ivar sighed and crouched down to my level. He moved slowly, his legs stiff and sore by this time of night.

“What are you working on?”

“My thesis.”

He frowned in confusion. “Your senior thesis?”

“No, my doctoral.”

Ivar sighed and rested his face in his hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “Is it really that bad?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine.” I tried to sound dismissive, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Do you want to go home? We can do that if you need to, just go back to your room and watch a movie or something.”

“No!” I exclaimed, “I said I would come to the party with you and I am!”

“Ginger, you shut yourself up in my coat closet working on something that you don’t actually have to _think_ about for another two years..”

I cringed at his tone, turning back to stare at my laptop so he couldn’t see the panic rising back up inside me.

“Look, what can I do? Can I get you anything? Jello shot?” he asked, half-joking.

“Are they blue?” I asked eagerly.

Ivar shook his head, caught between surprise and exasperation with my continued insistence on acting like this wasn’t a totally weird situation.

“What?”

“It’s the only kind of jello I like.”

“I’ll… go check.” he replied, “Gimme a minute.”

As he walked off to check on the Jello situation, I could hear Hvitserk commenting that he and his girlfriend had “a really weird thing about closets.”

He was back a moment later with a little cup of blue Jello. “Try not to taste it too much, I think they used ethanol to make these, but it might help you feel more relaxed.”

I eyed it with brief suspicion. My mom had always been pretty chill about alcohol with us. She would let us have a taste of wine at home on the few occasions she drank, and for the past couple years would let us have a very small amount if we were having an especially nice dinner. So it had never held any particular mystique to me, and I was never interested in trying to make myself miserable so I’d never drunk a lot at any one time.

Now, though, I actually wanted to see if it might help. Maybe Ivar was right, and the alcohol could help calm the worst of my anxiety. I wrinkled my nose at the slight taste and I gulped down the shot as quickly as possible. He was right, whatever booze it contained was pure rotgut.

“Did someone make the Jello _and_ the alcohol? Do you have a still hidden somewhere?”

Ivar laughed. “Oh yeah, a really great guy made it for us. His name’s Benjamin Franklin but most people just call him ‘Hawkeye.”

“Ha ha ha.” I replied, “I’ll make a nerd out of you yet. How long until I know it’s working?”

Half an hour later, Ivar had briefly lost track of me after confiscating my laptop and taking it up to his room, only to find me sitting in the lounge amidst a crowd of other students.

“My protein receptor!” I cried out, holding my arms wide as soon as I spotted him.

“Uh, what?”

“I was just telling them,” I said, draping myself over him as soon as he came close, “You have all these chemical signals floating around in your body all the time, and they’re looking for their protein receptor to bind to and that’s like people! We’re all just floating around, trying to find the protein receptor that we fit with.”

“O… kay?” Ivar surveyed the gathered group, half of whom were taking notes with bemusement, “Maybe it’s time to get you some water?”

One student who was writing furiously on a napkin glared at Ivar and hissed, “Beat it, Lothbrok! This is the most any of this shit’s ever made sense!”

“Fuck off, Bul,” he snapped back, “Go study and stop trying to use my girlfriend’s drunk science to pass your classes.”

“Where are we going, Ivar?” I asked as he half-carried me away, “Oh, we’re leaving? Okay, bye guys! It was really fun!”

My audience returned my exuberant wave wistfully. Ivar guided me to the kitchen where he got me a glass of water.

“Having a good time?” he asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I’m _not_ drunk. I’m just moderately tipsy.” I said, leaning against the counter beside him and sipping slowly. After a moment the gelatinized courage I’d imbibed prompted me to say, “I’m sorry about this morning.”

Ivar frowned and shook his head. “Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“It is _my_ body.”

He froze, looking like he’d just been hit with a sudden flash of insight.

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, as if the thought hadn’t actually occurred to him before, “And you don’t like feeling like you’re under pressure.”

I actually laughed. Had it really not occurred to him until now? This from the guy who’d just dealt with sexual dysfunction because of psychological issues a couple months ago? But apparently it was a novel concept that the mind and body are two parts of the same organism, and no matter how astounding his skills in bed nothing he did could change that.

“Hey!”

Still laughing, I wrapped my arms around his waist. Even though he pouted and refused to hug me back, I swayed us from side-to-side, silly with relief.

“I’m sorry, baby, you’re just so cute when you realize everything isn’t about you!”

He grumbled, but then he chuckled and relaxed, draping his arms around my shoulders and squishing me.

“I’m sorry I took it out on you. I just felt like I’d failed you and… well, I’ve been pretty stressed myself lately and it was kind of like the last straw. Sorry for the whole silent treatment and all.”

I sobered up immediately. I knew what he was referring to. His surgery was coming up in a couple of weeks, and even though it was nothing in comparison to what he’d already gone through, it was those previous experiences that made it such a terrifying prospect. It was so bad that even though it could have been done without, they’d decided to do it under general anesthesia just to keep his… his anxiety to a minimum.

Wow, so that was the first time I’d actually associated that word with Ivar. I hadn’t thought about it before, but his specific issues weren’t all that different from my more generalized anxiety.

“It’s gonna be okay.” I squeezed him tighter, “I’ll be there. And you’ll feel so much better once it’s over.”

Ivar smiled into my hair.

“Do you need _me_ to get _you_ a jello shot?”

He snorted. “Why the hell not?”

We hung out with his friends and played dumb games, and I got way more intoxicated than him because even after half a year he could still hold his alcohol a million times better than I did. By the end of the night I was leaning heavily on him for support, even though he was a little wobbly himself, as he brought me upstairs; and, as it turned out, my mental filter was pretty much completely shot.

“Come on, Ging, let’s get you ready for bed.”

“Mm, bed.” I murmured, trying to rub up against him sexily and probably failing, I was certainly in no position to judge at that point.

“Not _that_ kind of bed.” Ivar said, helping me with the buckles on my high-heeled Mary Janes.

“Why not?” I whined, “I want you to fuck me.”

Ivar paused, staring down at my feet and cautiously asked, “You what?”

“Fuck me. Like, _really_ fuck me.”

Ivar cleared his throat, wiped his hands on his pants and said firmly, “You need to sleep.” before busying himself with getting everything I would need out of my bag.

I, however, was too out of it to stop myself from spouting what had, up until then, only been a half-formed thought at the back of my mind.

“Do you think I can’t take it? I can!”

“Yeah, how about we talk about this when you’re a little more sober.”

He was doing his best to sound soothing, but Drunk Gwen just wasn’t having it.

“You’re not listening! I mean, it’s not like I don’t love when you’re gentle, but I’m not a delicate little flower. I’m a woman, and sometimes I really just want you to fuck me so hard I can barely walk and feel it for days.”

I don’t know if it was me asking for him to be rougher, or the fact I was actually swearing, but Ivar was looking at me like he was trying to figure out if he was drunker than he’d thought, had passed out at some point and was now dreaming.

“And don’t you dare say you’re not into it, because believe it or not I have noticed you lose your damn mind when you’re about to come.”

Ivar averted his gaze, his cheeks going dark with a flush that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Although no name-calling,” I rambled on, “I don’t think I’d like that, so I want you to fuck me but, like, fuck me _respectfully_.”

Ivar blinked and then slowly nodded. “I will… take that under advisement. But right now you’re drunk and exhausted.”

“Aw, phooey,” I mumbled, but I was already crawling under the covers and half asleep, so there wasn’t a whole lot of feeling behind it.

The next morning I woke with my first hangover and a boyfriend who patiently held my hair back while I vomited. He didn’t say a word about what I’d said the night before and I —feeling a bit embarrassed and weird about having said all that— just sort of pretended I didn’t remember.

It was still something I wanted to talk about, but I was also mindful that he was under a lot of stress and it wasn’t a good time. Once his surgery was over and done with we’d both be a lot calmer, and I could think about how to approach the conversation regarding The Future of Ivar and Gwen’s Sex Life: Part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took a LONG time to finally get finished. It's extra long, so hopefully that makes up for it.


	10. Part 10

**** Halloween was in the middle of the week that year, which basically meant that the next morning pretty much no one was going to class. For once, I was one with the general student body of Kattegat U in the lack of any desire to be productive. At least I had Hvitserk and his mysterious hangover concoctions to make me feel remotely human while I spent the day hiding with Ivar from the evils of sunshine and noise.

“People do this on purpose?”

Ivar shrugged. He had managed to skirt the edge of his tolerance and avoided getting more than a mild headache. Still, he’d chosen to play hookey and take care of my sorry ass, which was much appreciated.

That is, until later in the day. We were trying to nap, but ended up talking about the plan for his surgery instead. He was being the big spoon, molded so closely to my back I almost thought he could have created a vacuum seal, when his nervous hands started to head in their usual direction. I stiffened without thinking, pushing him back as casually as possible. There was no point to feigning nonchalance, though. I’d never turned him down like that before, he was bound to go to DEFCON 1.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, leaning over from behind to see my face, “You don’t wanna?”

I shrugged, trying to dismiss it. He delicately brushed a few stray locks of hair away from my cheek. Even though my eyes were closed, I could practically  _ feel  _ him frowning.

“You’re upset. Why are you upset? Do you feel sick again? It’s okay if you don’t feel good, if you’re not in the mood or whatever, just tell me. I’m not hurt or anything.”

There was a big part of me that wanted to let him think that, to take the easy way out. Another part thought of just giving in, letting him have the physical comfort I knew he was craving to try and cope with his own anxiety. But I also knew that if I did, if I stayed silent and didn’t at least  _ try  _ to voice my concerns, it would be setting a terrible precedent for the future.

Which was basically the whole issue in the first place.

“Yesterday morning.”

Ivar pulled back immediately. Not far, but enough that he was no longer touching me. I turned over, and he scooted back even further. He kept his hands close to himself as he watched me with what looked like a cross between concern and fear.

“What you did, getting upset like that, it made me feel like complete shit.”

Ivar cringed. I knew I was hurting him by being so blunt, but I didn’t know any other way to make sure he understood how bad  _ he’d _ hurt  _ me _ . I had enough issues with my body and learning to be comfortable with the whole sex thing without also worrying about my boyfriend sulking and basically punishing me every time something went wrong, and I told him that.

“I know you weren’t thinking of it at the time, but I need for you to understand that was like, the absolute worst way you could have acted.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” he said, now glaring at his hands where he picked viciously at his nails.

“I don’t need you to make it up to me, I just need you to try not to do it  _ again _ . That felt like it came totally out of left field, y’know? It’s not like I’ve never had that problem before.”

“It’s different.” he mumbled.

“Yeah, I know. You felt like you failed this time or whatever, but the thing is, that’s  _ all  _ you were thinking about. But you  _ know  _ stuff can be really complicated, even for a girls who  _ aren’t  _ prone to having random freak-outs. I meant what I said, my issue at that precise moment wasn’t about you, but I need you to understand that it  _ could  _ have been. I mean, like, if it kept on happening, and you reacted like that every time, after a while I’d probably be expecting it, and then I’d start freaking out every time we tried to do  _ anything _ . Do you get what I mean?”

Ivar nodded. “No, yeah, you’re right.” He finally looked at me, big blue eyes all somber. It felt like I’d said enough at that point. Now, knowing him, he would take that, mull it over, look at it every which way and sideways until he’d fully processed it and figured out how he was going to handle it.

But in the meantime, he was still my boyfriend and he was still silently panicking about going in for surgery in a couple of weeks, so I took the initiative to roll over and tuck myself into his chest. As if he’d just been waiting for permission, he wrapped his arms around me and held tight.

I woke up later to find that Ivar was gone, but he’d taken care to tuck the covers in around me. I checked my cell to see if he’d sent me a text, but there were no new messages. Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around with a frown. Where had he gone off to?

Even though I’d skipped class, I couldn’t let the whole day go to waste. My laptop was already set up on Ivar’s desk, and when I went to open it I noticed a torn sheet of notebook paper folded up on top. On the front was the single word, “GINGER”, written in Ivar’s plain, all-caps handwriting.

_ I wanted to say thanks for earlier. It’s important to me that you can be honest with me and feel like I’ll be mature enough to handle it.  _

_ Ivar _

_ P.S. I can’t promise I always will be mature enough to handle it, but I promise I’ll work on it.  _

The last two words were noticeably sloppy in comparison to the rest. Sitting there, I could imagine Ivar looking over at me, still sleeping, and blushing as he furiously scribbled, “ _ Love you. _ ”

“Love you too, goober.” I said to the empty room. Folding the wrinkled paper back up, I carefully smoothed it under my palm and then tucked it into my laptop bag for safekeeping.

~...~

“Have you called your mom yet?”

“Traitor!” I hissed at Ivar dramatically. He’d been listening to Alfred hounding me for days because our mother kept calling him to make sure I wasn’t replaced with an AI only capable of single-sentence texts. It appeared that he’d decided to join in on the fun.

It’s not that I didn’t love my mother, or that I didn’t want to talk to her. It was just a lot  _ easier  _ for me to conveniently forget to call her for an extended period of time rather than face the inevitable conversation about the new development in my life. Of course she already knew I had a boyfriend. Once Aethelred found out it was pretty much a matter of minutes before our mom did. Still, she hadn’t mentioned it in any of the brief texts we’d sent each other in the days since.

I wasn’t worried about her freaking out, per say. She was the one who’d always encouraged me to try going out with guys in high school. But I knew she would be hurt that I hadn’t talked to her about it earlier. She was just… just… very  _ exuberant  _ about social stuff in general, at least in comparison to me. Alfred had inherited her easy way of moving between groups and getting along with everyone, I had not. It was the one major thing we’d always ended up clashing over.

“I seriously don’t get how you haven’t told your mom about your first boyfriend!” Ivar said, laughing, “I thought girls were supposed to be really close with their moms!”

“That’s a stereotype. Have  _ you  _ told  _ your  _ mom about us?”

“Uh, yeah.” he replied, as if it was obvious.

“You have?” I asked, alarmed. Aslaug Sigurdsdottir was like, the Queen Bee of high society. The thought of her knowing about and judging my relationship with her beloved youngest son was… intimidating, to say the least.

“Yeah, so you have no excuse. So quit malingering and  _ call her _ .”

I made a sour face at him and grumbled to myself, but pulled out my cellphone to call her. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Who is this?”

I gave my phone a dirty look before bringing it back to my ear and saying, “Uh, your daughter.”

My mother’s voice on the other end was a delightful mixture of obliviousness and sarcasm. “Oh? I have a daughter? I have this number saved in my phone, but it’s been so long that dementia has set in and I just can’t remember anymore…”

“Maaaaaa!” I found myself whining in an unfortunately teenage way.

“Alright,” she laughed. She could never be upset with any of her kids for long, even when she was teasing. “How are you, darling? Anything new?”

“Please, we both know Red has already told you  _ everything _ .”

“Correction. He told his father, who then told me. I then asked Aethelred to tell me directly, since I’m fairly certain something must have been skewed along the way, as my daughter is far too clever to date a—and I do believe this is quoting Wulf precisely—‘tattooed little punk who’s criminal record is longer than Gwen’s senior thesis.”

“Oh, I think he misunderstood. Ivar is a Punk, like, the subculture. Tattoos and piercings and really loud music.”

“Hey!” Ivar objected from behind the screen of his laptop.

“And the criminal record?” Mom asked.

“Technically, it was all expunged when he turned eighteen.”

“Excellent! When do I meet him?”

“Mooom!” I whined again.

I could see Ivar’s eyes peeking curiously over his laptop.

There was a moment of silence, and when she started talking again she was suddenly serious. “I mean it, Gwen, it sounds like he means a lot to you, and I want to meet him.” another brief pause and then, “You’re being careful, right?”

I wanted to crawl out of my own skin from the sheer awkwardness, but my mom was nothing if not frank about sex, and absolutely insisted on making sure her kids were safe and smart. 

“Of course I am, Mama.” I mumbled.

“And everything’s okay? Alfred seems to like this Ivar well enough, but I need to hear it from  _ you _ .”

This was her way of trying to tone her bluntness for my sake. What she meant was that Alfred may like my boyfriend, but he wasn’t the one in an intimate relationship with him. I’d always been the most ‘delicate’ of her children, and she needed reassurance that I wasn’t being pressured or coerced.

“Everything’s great.  _ He’s  _ really great.” I lowered my voice, even though I knew there was no way Ivar wouldn’t hear.

My mom breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, good. Is he cute?”

“Mooom!” I wailed.

“Oh, now I  _ must  _ see a picture!” She laughed, rightly interpreting my response to mean “Fuck, yes.”

We chatted for a few more minutes about her work and my classes. She had a deadline coming up for a hundred handwritten invitations to an engagement party, so she had to hang up before either of us would have liked.

When I put my phone down, Ivar was already looking at me expectantly.

“My mom wants to meet you.” I said, cringing.

“Yeah?” he asked, “I was thinking you could come over and spend Thanksgiving weekend with my family, it would only be fair.”

Wait, what? Ivar wanted me to meet his family? And during Thanksgiving, the inexplicably cherished American holiday celebrating the fall harvest and colonization? Was that a thing we were doing already?

“It strikes me that most couples probably aren’t talking about spending holidays with each other’s families after only a couple months of dating.”

Ivar dismissed this with a wave. “Most people are weak and indecisive.”

“True.” I nodded in complete agreement.

And we proceeded to bask in the sure and certain knowledge that since we were individually right 99% of the time, together there was basically no chance we’d ever be wrong.

~...~

Between keeping up with school and managing Ivar’s growing apprehension, the next couple of weeks became a blur of studying, attempted distractions, and… well… guaranteed distractions. If there’s one thing I learned, it was that sex, and contact in general, wasn’t just a physical thing for Ivar. When words failed it allowed him to feel connected, and it was integral to his ability to cope. Any time things became too much for him to handle, he would reach for me. Sometimes even in the middle of the night.

The first time I was woken up by his sleepless fidgeting, he was apologetic and sheepish. It took a minute for my groggy brain to register that he was turning away to try and hide a raging boner. At first I was a little annoyed, but then I saw the look on his face and saw the need he was trying to hide from me. I reached for him, wrapping myself around him and kissing him with all the love and support I could muster.

Even though I made it clear I didn’t mind, he still tried to do it as rarely as possible. But every few nights I woke to gentle touches and a whisper in my ear of, “Gwen? Please.” He would tell me to relax, that he’d take care of me. And he always did.

After, Ivar wouldn’t fall asleep right away. Instead he became even  _ more  _ demonstratively affectionate than usual, petting me and checking every few minutes to see if I needed anything before finally drifting off. 

Another trait I noticed was that after sex, he took on this very particular, loose-limbed, self-assured way of moving. He might as well have just carried a sign around that said, in blinking lights, “ **I just got laid and feel really good about it!** ” Between that and the fact that my skin tended to go a charming shade of tomato red for awhile after an orgasm, I had to get used to it being glaringly obvious whenever we managed to find time to fool around during the day.

His brothers—and probably everyone else—definitely noticed. I could tell from the smirks and rolled eyes they exchanged every time Ivar slouched downstairs by my side to watch TV. He’d practically curl himself around me on the couch with an arm around my shoulders. From the moment we left his room he held my hand; playing with my fingers; occasionally pressing quick kisses to the back when he wasn’t occupied nuzzling at my ear or asking for the twentieth time if I needed him to get me some water.

It didn’t hugely bother me. I was steadily becoming more comfortable with his brothers in general. Having two brothers of my own, at first I was worried that I was intruding on their guy time too much. There were a lot of times when I came over that I’d find the three of them playing video games or watching sports together, but they were always surprisingly welcoming. Possibly because I purposefully tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. Usually I would just grab some homework and tuck my feet under one of Ivar’s legs, arrange a blanket over our laps, and quietly study while they did their thing.

Which, seriously, I think I deserve some credit because Ivar  _ never  _ wore shirts if he could help it, and it was  _ seriously  _ distracting. Probably the only thing he was actually diligent about was his physical therapy and workout routine, and it payed off. He was truly glorious in all his muscle-y goodness. The only thing that had kept me from word-vomiting about his beauty to my mom had been the fact that he was  _ right there _ , and really didn’t need that kind of an ego boost.

But I kept myself under control, and managed to restrain myself from from just sitting there and feeling up his arms in front of his buddies like I wanted to. There may have been a bit of shameless ogling though. I deserved  _ some  _ reward for my valiant effort.

And then he’d pull some kind of shit like, look at me, and I’d get lost in those blue, blue eyes. Except then he’d smile, and I’d end up thinking about how soft that luscious mouth felt, and the next thing I knew I would be leaning in. My eyes would drift shut just before our lips touched. In less than a second I’d forget that we weren’t alone. All I could taste and smell and feel was Ivar. Nothing else existed.

Then someone would clear their throat pointedly, and we’d pull apart sheepishly. Curse Ivar and his lip voodoo, hypnotizing me once again! Sometimes I would try to go back to studying. But a fair number of times I found myself grabbing his hand and tugging him back upstairs again while the guys rolled their eyes and reached for earplugs.

Despite all that, I hadn’t actually talked to either of his brothers much one-on-one until, one night, I found myself waking up to a growling stomach and the realization that I’d forgotten to eat… again. It’s something that tended to happen when I got too wrapped up in whatever I was doing, and Ivar found it tremendously irritating. So when I got up that night, I was careful not to wake him as I went in search of a snack.

The frat’s kitchen was large, and their fridge perpetually well-stocked. The reason for that being the very person I met as I came in. Hvitserk looked up at me and smiled as he pulled a tray of nachos out of the oven.

“Hey!”

I waved awkwardly, eyeing the nachos not-so-subtly as he set the tray on a hot plate and returned the oven mitts to their hook.

“You want some?” he asked knowingly.

It was all the invitation I needed. Hvitserk was an  _ amazing  _ cook, and had a special talent for whipping up gourmet meals out of a half a dozen random ingredients. Even better, he shared my love of quick, easy food. In short, snacks.

“Thanks.” I said, climbing onto a bar stool and selecting a chip that was perfectly loaded with cheese, beans, pico de gallo, and shredded chicken. Hvitserk made sure the containers of sour cream and guacamole were conveniently placed between us before digging in.

“So, Ivar says you’re coming to Thanksgiving.” He said casually.  _ Too  _ casually.

“We were talking about it.”

“Cool.” he smiled around a mouthful of nachos, “I’ll add you to the group.”

“The list?”

He puffed out his chest and struck a dramatic pose. “I’m in charge of organizing the food every year. We have a tradition where everyone has to bring something, so I made a Facebook group to make it easier to keep track of everything.”

“I don’t have Facebook.”

Hvitserk stared askance for a moment. Eventually he recovered and said, “Okay, I guess you can just text me. What can you make?”

Caught off guard, I struggled to think of something I could make that would be appropriate to bring to my first Thanksgiving with my boyfriend’s—ridiculously rich—family. “Uh, I bake sometimes. I could do like, dinner rolls or something?”

Hvitserk raised his eyebrows, “Really? I love home baked bread.” He muttered a few mental calculations. “Could you make about, uh, forty?”

I choked on a chip and spent the next few minutes wheezing while Hvitserk patted my back.

“Don’t worry.” he assured me cheerfully, “Half of those are for me.”

Half? That still left twenty more. When I’d agreed, I’d assumed it would be just Ivar, his brothers, and his mom. What fresh hell had I gotten myself into? Before I could work myself into too much of a panic, Hvitserk distracted me with a question.

“So, how’s Ivar been handling everything? With the surgery coming up, I mean.”

I shrugged. “He’s your brother. You probably know better than me.”

Hvitserk shook his head, and I frowned in confusion. I was starting to pick up on more and more of Ivar’s tells; his mannerisms and expressions. Still, I guess I’d always assumed that his brothers were more aware of his mental state just because they’d known him his whole life, as opposed to the roughly one-and-a-half months we’d been together.

“Nah,” Hvitserk disagreed, “See, he  _ talks  _ to you.”

My frown deepened. “You guys talk. I’ve seen you talk.”

“Not like that. We Lothbroks, we aren’t really into sharing  _ feelings _ .”

“Then how do you know he talks to me about that kind of stuff?”

Hvitserk just shrugged and smiled. It occured to me that his room was next to Ivar’s, I could occasionally hear him through the wall. Not clearly, but enough to know the tone of a conversation. So he could hear us as well.

I looked down, hoping the dim light and my hair would hide the flush that rose up, thinking about all the kinds of things he might have overheard. Trying to cover my embarrassment, I went back to his original question.

“Honestly, it’s hard for me to say how I think he’s doing. I don’t have much of a basis for comparison.” I admitted. No matter how long it felt, I was often reminded that we hadn’t really known each other that long. I hadn’t experienced enough of his moods; didn’t have sufficient data to extrapolate from.

Hvitserk smirked. “Well, he hasn’t hit anyone, he hasn’t tried to fuck his way through the entire swim team, and he hasn’t threatened to kill me. So all in all I would say his coping mechanisms have generally improved since you came into his life.”

I stared at him. “Did he seriously do that?”

“Which one?”

“Uh- Well, um… All of them?”

“Fighting, absolutely, though less in the past couple of years; fucking the swim team, only allegedly; and threats to end my life, more frequently than you would think. He doesn’t always appreciate my sense of humor.” He ticked each point off on one hand as he went. His tone was wry, but it seemed like he wasn’t being entirely facetious. But he still smiled warmly as he added, “He was getting better on his own before, but you’ve been good for him. I want you to know that.”

My awkward blushing nearly turned into blubbering. I could see how close the brothers were, and it was so important to me that his family liked me. That they approved of our relationship. 

I sometimes questioned myself. Was I enabling Ivar in some way? Allowing him to self-medicate? Was it selfish of me to accept the copious amounts of great sex without questioning if it was an unhealthy coping mechanism? Ivar’s opinion was nothing if not predictable. He insisted that all the “happy hormones” were therapeutic—which was also his excuse when he decided I was stressing out too much studying for a test and he needed to “distract” me.

It wasn’t like that’s  _ all  _ we did. We still spent lunch together, going to Helga’s or for a drive, and studying; or visiting the library and studying; or watching tv and studying; or playing a board game with my brothers and Ealhswith… and then studying.

We could spend hours talking about absolutely nothing, or  _ everything _ . All the little thoughts and worries that came to us throughout the day. But we’d also been sharing some of the deeper pains we’d held inside for years. So sometimes we had no words for the other—nothing but the standard platitudes that were expected but never adequate—and all we could do is try and kiss each other’s scars and just hope it was enough. 

I was shaken from my limpid-eyed reverie by the sound of thumping and shuffling. We both turned to find Ivar making his way into the kitchen. He must have found me through scent because his eyes were barely open as he came over and wrapped himself around me from behind. 

“Whe’ja’go?” He mumbled against my cheek. Luckily, I’d learned to speak fluent Sleepy-Ivareese. I was just thankful he was at least sensible enough to put on some boxers before coming downstairs.

“I was hungry.” I leaned my head back against his chest.

“Cm’bag’t’bed.” He whined.

“I will in a minute.” I patted one of his hands soothingly. “I just want to help Hvitserk clean up.”

“‘Vit?” Ivar squinted as if just noticing there was someone else there.

“Yeah, he made nachos. They were really good.”

“Fug ‘vit. Cm’t’bed.”

“Ivar!” I scolded, “That’s mean! Go back upstairs and I’ll be there in a minute.”

He sighed before kissing me and mumbling, “‘kay. Luv’y.” before retreating back upstairs like some kind of half-asleep Frankenstein’s monster.

“I love you too.” I called after him. When I turned back around, Hvitserk was giving me an odd look. “What?”

He said nothing, just gave a full-body shudder and pushed the plate towards me along with the last nacho. Maybe he was feeling unusually generous, maybe his appetite was ruined, but I chose to take it as a token of friendship.

~...~

So we carried on in that manner for days and days. Studying, hanging out, studying, fooling around, studying, repeat ad infinitum. Ivar made a visible effort to stay calm as his surgery loomed ever closer, but I could tell that his control was beginning to wear thin. After awhile, even his therapy appointments weren’t helping the way they usually did. He would come back prickly and snappish, sequestering himself away for hours.

As his tension grew, he’d started to spend more and more time holed up in his room, pounding on his practice drums. Eyes clenched shut and headphones on, he tried to work out his stress and frustration on the rubber pads.

I didn’t understand at first why he was trying to isolate himself so much, but then I noticed that when he was with other people, his normal joking was becoming subtly sharper. The usually light-hearted banter he shared with his friends and brothers was just a little too on the mark. Sometimes, his comments could be downright mean, and he had a talent for hitting people where it hurt.

I seemed to be the only one safe from his remarks, which I usually would have at least tried to call him out on, but as it turned out, I was dealing with some issues of my own.

Just a day before his surgery, in the wee hours of the morning, I found myself wracked with the intense, pulsing pain of cramps. I groaned as one particularly intense spasm woke me from a deep sleep, and my stomach sank as I realized what it inevitably meant. And the worst part was, I was sleeping over at Ivar’s, in his bed, on his pristine mattress.

I briefly considered faking my own death and going to live as a hermit in the mountains. It probably wouldn’t be that hard considering the crime scene I’d probably already made of the bed. Then I remembered that I was hopeless at basic survival skills—and also that I was an adult, that too—and decided to just bite the bullet and wake Ivar up.

“Wu’za’madder?” he asked, blinking sleepily at first, then more alertly when he registered that I was upset.

“I, um…” My voice failed me. I swallowed hard, because I was  _ not  _ going to cry over something so stupid. Nope, I was a grown up!

“What? What is it?”

“I think my period started last night and I probably… uh…” 

Ivar had to lean in to hear me, because my voice was still coming out as a hoarse whisper despite my best efforts. “Wha?” he asked, leaning over to turn on his bedside lamp.

I winced at the sight of bright red splotch on the sheets, then full-body cringed when Ivar shouted, “Jesus! Did you spring a leak?”

Really?

“I mean,” he quickly backpedaled, sighing and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I don’t know, this is normal? Okay? Whatever?”

Was it a normal amount of blood for me? Yeah, I nodded, and started trying to pull the fitted sheet out from under him, because otherwise I was fairly certain I was going to start snuffling like a baby.

Fucking hormones.

“Leave it.” Ivar said. Taking the sheet from my hands, he waved towards the door that led to the bathroom. “Just take care of yourself and I’ll handle this.”

I must have looked pretty flabbergasted. He kissed my cheek and gave a rueful smile.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ve handled my fair share of bloodstains. I got it.”

I managed to hold back the tears until I could grab what I needed and get into the bathroom. I covered my mouth and muffled the whimpering sobs that threatened to spill out. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Ivar heard, but the small room was shared between his dorm and Hvitserk’s, and it would have been _ the worst _ if he woke up because I was crying and bleeding all over his bathroom.

Taking a shaky breath, I tried to look on the bright side. At least I had been wearing underwear. It would have probably been worse if I hadn’t. Though now I had to figure out cleaning everything up while dealing with cramps and in a foreign environment. At least at the house there were other girls, and everyone was generally pretty understanding about these kinds of emergencies.

Again, I was reminded that Ivar and I hadn’t been together all that long in the grand scheme of things. This was only the second time I’d had my period since our relationship had started. I hadn’t thought about the logistics of dealing with my cycle while regularly staying over with him. Luckily, I always kept a little bag of supplies in my backpack, so I wasn’t completely without-a-paddle.

I tried my best to rinse the blood out of my panties with cold water, then left them to soak while I retreated to the shower for a good sulk. The heat would at least help me feel cleaner, and ease the pain a little. Outside my Stall of Solitude, I heard Ivar come in. After a couple minutes of shuffling around, he called out, “I’m throwing some stuff in the wash. Anything else you want me to put in while I’m at it?”

“You don’t have to do that!” I said hastily, realizing he meant to take care of my underwear himself.

“It’s fine, I got it.” He replied easily, and breezed out like some sort of Laundry Fairy.

I hurried to towel off and get dressed before peeking out to find him making the bed with fresh sheets.

“Let me do that.” I tried to take over, but he nudged me away gently.

“It’s fine. I got it. Everything’s in the wash.”

I mumbled my thanks, and ended up just sort of perched on his drum stool and awkwardly watching him finish tucking everything in. Another surge of cramps hit me, and I curled over and took deep breaths through clenched teeth, waiting for it to pass.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Jus’ cramps. It’s fine.”

Ivar made some sort of noise of acknowledgement, but he continued to watch me with concern as he tossed the pillows back in place.

“You sure you’re okay? I mean, this  _ can’t  _ be normal.”

I bristled. “You’ll excuse me for saying, but I don’t think you’re entirely  _ equipped  _ to know  _ what’s  _ normal under these circumstances.” I said, sarcastically. 

Irritation really was the  _ best  _ remedy for anxiety.

Ivar cast me a look of annoyance, but then he sighed and his shoulders slumped, and I suddenly saw that he was absolutely exhausted.

“I may not have a uterus, but I do know something about pain. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I don’t care about a bit of blood, okay? I’ve dealt with a few bloodstains in my life. It’s not a big deal. What I care about is that the woman I love is obviously fucking miserable and I can’t do anything about it.”

I stood, ready to hurry to his side, but he took a deliberate step back that halted me in my tracks. He went on in a dejected tone.

“I can’t help you, I can’t help myself.” He scoffed. “Apparently, I can’t do shit.”

What could I say to that? I didn’t know, so in the end I didn’t say anything, and the topic was just sort of left hanging.

~...~

As so often ended up happening, I had to call out of a lot of my classes that day on account of wanting to curl up in a ball and die. I went back to my own bed, with my own heating pad and my own TB stuffy, and tried to sleep through the worst of it. That’s where Ivar found me later on, burrowed under the covers in my frumpiest jammies.

The bed dipped as he sat beside me, tugging the comforter down until he could see my face. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?”

“No.” I mumbled, batting his hand away as he tried to find my face through the mass of frizzy waves I hadn’t had the time to straighten that morning.

Ivar sighed and was silent for a long time. After awhile, I peeked on eye open to find him pinching the bridge of his nose, his mouth set in a tense line. He was the picture of pure stress and misery, and I remembered what he’d said earlier.

And suddenly, it was clear to me what to do. He didn’t know what to do anymore than I did. He just wanted to do  _ something _ .

“Hey, Ivar?” I asked, tentatively.

“Yeah?” He replied, sounding resigned to just about anything at that point.

“Can you come rub my belly, please?”

I couldn’t see his entire face, but I could see him fighting to keep his expression gloomy. His mouth twitched at the corner until, finally, he couldn’t help the snort of laughter that burst out.

“Really?” He asked, looking back at me with a smile. “Would that actually help?”

“Actually it kind of would.”

I held up my comforter so he could join me, settling in on his side while I wriggled happily into place against him. His hand was warm, and nearly covered my entire belly as he started to rub gentle circles; and even if it didn’t help the pain a lot, it still helped to soothe my hormone-frazzled nerves.

“You’re really not upset about the mess?” I asked when I felt more myself. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Ivar murmured into my hair, never stopping the rhythmic stroking of his hand. “I mean, you let me cum all over you all the time, and that’s something I actually have a  _ choice  _ about, so… yeah, I guess I just figure I probably owe you more than one?”

“You’re really not going to get grossed out?” I prodded, still not completely convinced. “Even when I get the period shits?”

He drew back and looked at me incredulously. “That’s a thing?”

“Yup.”

He thought about it a moment, then shrugged, patting my belly. “Eh, I survived last year when the entire frat got the stomach flu while half the bathrooms weren’t working. I’m pretty sure your widdle innards can’t summon anything to compare to that.”

I had to elbow him softly on sheer principle. He gave an exaggerated ‘oof’, and complained about my ingratitude, and the abuse he endured at my hands for awhile. I finally had to turn around and give a laughing apology to silence his tale of woes, showering his face with kisses to earn his forgiveness.

Joking kisses, as they so often did, shifted to slow kisses, and I relaxed into it with a sigh, tangling my arms loosely around his neck.

As much as I was enjoying the whole soft, subdued making out thing, I felt the need to interject before he got any ideas. “Mm, Ivar.” I said, a little apologetically, “I’m kind of, uh, not… you know… in that kind of mood.”

“I know.” Ivar nodded and whispered against my lips, “I just want to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

“Okay?”

I nodded back. I was so totally okay with that. Ivar kisses where the best. Sometimes, it felt like I could spend all day like this, just trading these gentle brushes of lips on lips, never going any deeper or towards any particular goal. Just… kissing, like it was a language all of its own we were sharing, just the two of us.

~...~

The painkillers kicked in, and Ivar’s little pecks and gentle back rub soothed me to sleep. By the time I was woken up by some mysterious noise, it was already evening.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes as Ivar came in from a shower. He sat in my desk chair, rubbing a towel over his damp hair and smiling at me.

“Sleep good?” He asked.

“Mm hm.” I yawned. “What about you? Feel any better?”

Ivar just shrugged casually, and I squinted my eyes at him.

“It’s getting really bad, isn’t it?” I asked.

For a moment, I thought he was going to dismiss it again, but finally he replied, “How’d you guess?”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, let me think. You’re kinda being a jerk to everyone; your self-flagellation is at an all time high; and you’re putting  _ everything  _ in your mouth.”

Ivar’s gaze slid away from mine as he tried to hide his chewed-up nails in the folds of his towel. “I’m  _ trying _ .” He muttered.

“I know,” I said, trying to sound soothing, but firm, “but I gotta say, just ‘cause I noticed, you’ve kind of started taking it out on people who seriously don’t deserve it. Like, you’ve actually been a major bitch to your brothers.”

He made a face at the corner of the room, which had suddenly become a point of intense interest to him. “Yeah, but… it’s not like I’ve said anything to  _ you _ .”

“That… doesn’t actually count for much of anything.”

His focus shifted abruptly back to me, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Look,” I sighed, wiggling down the bed to sit in front of him, “I appreciate it, but do you get what I mean? Like, statistically speaking, if you treat one person good, and the rest of the world like crap, that one person doesn’t count for much, does it?”

“Yeah, I guess not.” He remarked thoughtfully.

We were quiet for a moment, and then I nudged his knee with a toe. “Hey, really though, are you okay? Anything I can do?”

He shrugged once more. With his surgery the next morning, I could imagine the horrible knot his mind was tying itself up into. The hands that were gripping the ends of the towel around his neck where white-knuckling. There was a visible tension in his jaw. He hadn’t slept properly in days, and judging from his blow up that morning, he was absolutely not doing ‘okay’.

Blow… huh, there was an idea. I was  _ really  _ spending too much time with Ivar if my brain was starting to look for terrible puns all on its own. 

But that was a thought for another time. I gently moved his knees apart with my hands, and slowly slid down to the floor between them. I moved deliberately, keeping eye contact with him all the while.

Ivar deduced my intentions almost instantly. “You, uh…” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I thought you weren’t in that kind of mood?”

“I’m not in  _ that  _ kind of a mood, but I’m definitely in  _ a  _ kind of mood.”

Fucking hormones.

I tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. Ivar mumbled some soft protestations as he lifted his hips so I could ease them down his legs.

I knew I was in a bad state when just the sight of his flaccid penis made me want to bite down a whimper and clench my legs together. The increased circulation ‘down there’—not to mention the  _ fucking hormones _ —was causing a conflict between my body and my brain. So I agreed to a compromise that would have the dual effect of helping my boyfriend relax, and hopefully give my libido something to gnaw on for the time being.

“Gwen-” Ivar’s voice was cut of by a soft sigh as I took him in hand, placing a soft kiss on the tip.

While I was quite fond of the image created by releasing Ivar’s fully-erect cock from confinement, there was something about watching and feeling him grow in my hand. To slowly work him from soft and flexible to a hard, rigid rod. To feel his blood pulsing just beneath the surface with my lips and tongue. It never failed to give me a heady thrill of power.

“Babe, it’s not-”

I looked up at him through my lashes and I graduated from kisses, to little licks from base to tip. He trailed off into a soft whimper as I batted my eyes innocently.

“Will you fucking let me talk!?” He finally managed to shout out in a rush. “You don’t have to-!”

I rolled my eyes. He did that sometimes, deciding he was going to be all noble and self-sacrificing or some shit. It  _ really  _ wasn’t necessary. 

I pointed his half-hard dick up and lightly moved his foreskin back and forth, while in a squeaky, cartoonish voice saying, “Hey! Please shut up so your girlfriend will suck me!”

Ivar was briefly in danger of falling over from both shock and laughter. I absentmindedly rubbed my cheek against his cock while I waited patiently for him to regain his composure, and tried to stop my own giggles.

“Ging!” He guffawed, “You can’t use my dick as a puppet!”

“Why not?”

He didn’t have the chance to respond. I started to lick him again, with soft, sucking kisses up, up, up, then back down again before ever reaching the most sensitive parts. His head fell back as he groaned in defeat.

“Oh, I get it. You’re in  _ that  _ kind of mood.” He grumbled the fourth or fifth time I failed to go where he really wanted.

I ignored him as I drew back to smile fondly at his cock. It was nearly fully-hard now, dark and pulsing in my hand. Already needy and begging from the achingly slow increase in stimulation.

“I love you.” I whispered, as if telling a secret.

“You could direct that towards my face, y’know.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” I replied to Ivar’s snippy remark

He snorted. “I’m starting to suspect I may not be the freak in this relationship. You aren’t allowed to complain when I call your ass Peaches.”

I slapped his wagging finger out of my face, turning my nose up primly. “Do  _ not  _ compare your absurd predilections to my loving, committed relationship.”

He grinned and tapped my nose, his hips sliding forward as he  _ finally  _ settled in for the long haul.

The moment of levity over, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. I’d put a decent amount of time and effort into developing my blowjob skills. One thing I’d quickly discovered was that I didn’t have a gag reflex so much as a choke-and-instantly-projectile-vomit reflex — a tale which I shall NOT be recounting. It meant that I chose to focus on alternative techniques. That night I was intent on pulling out all the stops, drawing it out until he was physically incapable of doing anything  _ but  _ sleeping.

I lost track of time as I intensified my attentions by the tiniest increments, waiting until I knew he really couldn’t bear it anymore before moving on to the next level. By the time I was steadily pumping his length in one fist as I lovingly suckled at his sack, he’d been reduced to making these adorable, short, high-pitched little moans. His hands were fisted in his own hair. His toes were curling into the floor.

It was time.

“Ivar?” I asked, still keeping my pace steady as I waited for him to look at me.

“Ung?”

He finally opened his eyes, and I heard his breath go out in a ‘woosh’ as he saw my sweet, wide-eyed gaze. 

I relaxed my mouth so my lips pouted softly, pitched my voice a little high, with just a hint of ‘baby’ to round it all off.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

It took me a moment to realize that the faint, whistling sound I was hearing was coming from Ivar. His whole face crumpled and clenched as his moan gradually went from dog-whistle to a guttural growl. All the while I kept a leisurely but steady pace. Sucking his tip in my mouth, stroking with one hand, and pulling firmly on his balls with the other.

When he came, his hips completely left the seat; and he let out a long, almost anguished grunt through clenched teeth. I angled him so his cum wouldn’t hit my throat, giving my own involuntary whine of distress as I rolled my hips down against my shins. 

My body was practically  _ screaming  _ for him. I rested my cheek one of his thighs, gently stroking both as he came down from his high. I wanted more in that moment. But then my belly clenched painfully and I was once again filled with a supreme feeling of ‘ick’.

~...~

“I’m trying.”

“I know.” 

I was draped over Ivar, having been told that he required “deep pressure therapy”, and that it was the least I could do after “killing half his brain cells” and “making him make those sounds.” I scooted up so I could wrap my arms more tightly around his shoulders.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“Fair enough. Just… you know you can talk to me, right?”

“I don’t want to stress you out.”

“Ivar,” I sighed, “I love you. I don’t want you to go through all this alone.  _ That’s  _ what stresses me out.”

He stroked one of my hands quietly. “You know what the dumbest thing is?” Ivar asked after a long time. His voice broke slightly, and my heart right along with it. “All I can think is that I really want my dog.”

“I’m so sorry.” I mumbled inadequately into his neck.

“I don’t even deserve to be upset.” He gave a humorless laugh. “At least I’m alive.”

“Ivar…” 

I petted his hair, as I wracked my brain for what to say. I thought about my own brothers. Aethelred, who’d been my personal defender and champion for so long. But though I couldn’t imagine either one of them not being there, I couldn’t even think about losing Alfred. Him not being there wouldn’t even be like losing an arm or a leg, it would be like waking up without any sense of taste, touch, and color. Life would be livable, but without him, everything would be dulled, unenjoyable.

Ivar spoke so rarely about Sigurd, I had only a faint idea of what he’d been like. He never made offhand comments about him. He certainly never said anything around his other brothers that might remind them of him. 

“Tell me about him?” I asked hesitantly.

“He was braver than me in a lot of ways.” Ivar said, rubbing my back idly. He started off slowly, but as he spoke, he gradually became more animated, almost excited. “He’s the only one of us who had the guts to go his own way. Even when we were at each other’s throats, sometimes it was like… he was the only one who cared enough to call me out on my shit, y’know? Like, he knew I could do better and hated seeing me screwing up my life. He was a real asshole about it but still… The only thing he loved more than disapproving of me was his music, which he wasn’t  _ total  _ shit at.”

Maybe we should have tried to go to sleep earlier, but I couldn’t bear to interrupt him. It was like a dam was broken. He kept talking and talking, pouring out memories and anecdotes as they came to him. Some that made him laugh, others that still obviously made him irritated. But when he finally fell asleep, it was a deep sleep, and he didn’t stir even once until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I did it! I really am sorry it's taken me so long to update anything. Life has been changing a lot for me, and my inspiration was just not there for a long time. So here's a jumbo chapter to make up for it!
> 
> The chapters, they just keep getting longer and longer. XD


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